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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288974">reveal the picture in reverse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx'>OnyxSphinx</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProblemWithTrouble/pseuds/ProblemWithTrouble'>ProblemWithTrouble</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pacific Rim (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, ZERO communication skills tbh, it's technically mutual pining too, this fic will make you want to rip your hair out with frustration, trust me - Freeform, we wrote it and we wanted to rip our hair out as well</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProblemWithTrouble/pseuds/ProblemWithTrouble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Newt took another breath and gathered the rest of his senses. Tonight wasn’t the only night for him to find out if Hermann really cared for him, they had time.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>After the War, Newt and Hermann attend a gala to celebrate the end of the war-efforts, and wind up setting off a chain of events that leaves them with radically different ideas of what their relationship actually is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermann Gottlieb/Original Male Character(s), Newton Geiszler &amp; Hermann Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>reveal the picture in reverse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>newt's pov is written by the wonderful ProblemWithTrouble (<a href="https://problemwithtrouble.tumblr.com/">problemwithtrouble</a> on tumblr), and hermann's pov is written by OnyxSphynx (<a href="https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/">autisticharrow</a> on tumblr)</p><p>fair warning, this fic is very, <i>very</i> angsty. like, 24k of this is angst. we love our angst, can you tell?</p><p>there IS a happy ending though! newt and hermann communicate, it just takes..............a long, long, <i>long</i> time </p><p>also thanks to olivia and mary for looking through this pre-posting to make sure it makes sense!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This gala,” Newton said, scowling heavily into the glass he held, “sucks <em> so </em> fucking much.”</p><p>“<em> Newton, </em> ” Hermann hissed, elbowing him in the ribs in what he was aware was probably a less-than-comfortable motion, “this is a <em> formal </em> function. <em> Language! </em>”</p><p>Newton groaned. “Dude, I don’t want to <em> be </em> here,” he complained. “I mean, look, it’s a nice gesture and all, ‘cause we <em> did </em> help save the world, but come <em> on </em> , mandatory attendance? And in <em> Tokyo? </em> We were in <em> Hong Kong! </em>”</p><p>Hermann shrugged. “Well, you may not like it,” he said, “but it is what it is, and, if not for anything else, then at least for <em> publicity </em> reasons, please watch your mouth. You want to be a rockstar, yes? Act like one.”</p><p>“Rockstars get to cuss,” the biologist grumbled, but settled a bit, pulling on whatever it was that he picked up from one of the catering staff who’d been going around the room; Hermann had no idea what it was, given he’d not tried it himself, but going by the appearance, he assumed it was white-wine.</p><p>Honestly, though, he agreed with Newton, if only privately; it was, well, <em> idiotic </em> to force the Shatterdome Hong Kong employees to attend a gala held for publicity reasons, and one held in a whole nother <em> country </em> than where the action actually took place, at that.</p><p>Unfortunately, it was heavily implied by the PPDC higher-ups that <em> not </em> coming would mean not a reprimand, but an immediate termination and severance of pay, and Hermann had <em> no </em> interest in job-hunting, and he doubted Newton did either.</p><p>Thus; they stood there, on the edges of a giant room, surrounded by celebrities, dignitaries, and PPDC employees just as awkward as they are, wearing formal, spotless attire.</p><p>Neither of <em> them </em> had any say in their clothing, really, and he doubted that any of the others did, hence why he had just spotted, moments ago, Hercules Hansen standing stiffly in a sky-blue suit, a ruffled pocket-square matching the material of his tie in his breast-pocket.</p><p>Hermann sympathised; he, himself, was in a dark, red-brown pair of slacks and a midnight-blue blazer, the grey dress shirt beneath it fitted, as was every other piece of this outfit, and he found his motions restricted in a way that was alien to him, more used to oversized and ill-fitting clothing—and nevermind the <em> mental </em> restrictiveness of this attire.</p><p>He shifted; glancing around.</p><p>“Drink?” Newton offered, catching his gaze.</p><p>Hermann wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I’ll <em> pass </em>, thank you,” he said.</p><p>Newton shrugged. “Your choice, man,” he said, and downed the last of it. “Anyway, how long before we can leave, d’you think?”</p><p>“...at least half an hour,” Hermann replied, after thinking on it for a few moments. “Anything less would be considered impolite.”</p><p>“<em> Great </em>,” Newton sighed, “thirty more minutes of this bulls—crap. I’m going to go see if there’re any hors d'oeuvres left. You wanna tag along, or stay here, brooding in the corner?”</p><p>“I’m not <em> brooding </em> ,” Hermann said, too fast, and Newton grinned at him, brow raised. Hermann scowled. “ <em> Fine </em> ,” he said, “I <em> did </em> have something quiche-like earlier that wasn’t <em> awful </em>, and I haven’t eaten anything in a while”</p><p>The grin remained on Newton’s face, and Hermann resisted the urge to whack his ankles with his cane, but only just barely.</p><p>There <em> were </em> hors d’oeuvres left, it turned out, <em> including </em> the quiche-like things, which Hermann indulged in three of, while Newton tried a few of everything, stuffing them into his mouth like a mannerless heathen.</p><p>To be <em> fair </em> , he <em> was </em>, so that, at least, wasn’t a facade, unlike most of what they’ve been doing here, and that fact alone put Hermann slightly more at ease for the first time all night.</p><p>“Let’s dance,” Newton said, abruptly.</p><p>Hermann bit back a surprised squawk. “<em> What? </em>” he said, nearly stumbling back a step or two, and gripped the head of his cane tightly. “Pardon!?”</p><p>“Dance,” Newton said, again, patiently, like he was speaking to a young child.</p><p>“No, I <em> heard </em> you,” Hermann snapped, “I was just—you’re <em> joking </em>, surely?”</p><p>“Absolutely <em> not </em> .” Newton’s words were emphatic, and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand. “C’mon, Herms—for tradition? I <em> know </em> you know how to dance—you spent three paragraphs complaining to me about how Lars forced you to take lessons as a kid.”</p><p>Hermann scowled at him; snapped, almost, at the mention of <em> that </em> , of the letters; of a better time; and then thought better of it; after all, it’d been <em> years </em> ; he didn’t hate Newton anymore—far from it. “Fine,” he said, and allowed Newton to lead him towards the dance-floor. “But if you embarrass me, I <em> will </em> not be pleased.”</p><p>Newton gave an amused chuckle. “Chill, man, I won’t,” he reassured. “And no one’s looking, anyway.” His hand went to Hermann’s waist, tentatively, as if asking permission, and Hermann swallowed; nodded, and mirrored the action.</p><p>They danced; slow, to the tempo of the music—a waltz, he thought, faintly, and Newton’s hands, one on his shoulder and one on his waist, were warm even through his clothes; his gaze meeting Hermann’s, softer than he was used to.</p><p>In the light, Hermann took a good look at the other for the first time that night; took in the image of him, hair styled into artful messiness, skinny-jeans and scuffed boots and a white shirt traded for a form-fitting, silvery-grey blazer, the lapels satiny, and the tie knotted intricately. He was wearing some makeup, too, Hermann noted; just the faintest hint of eyeliner darkening his lashes, and framing his eyes, and, oh, Hermann had known this before, known he had freckles, but the end of the War meant he’d seen more sun, and now they were splattered across his face, and; <em> oh </em>.</p><p>Hermann wished he could kiss him.</p><p>Well; no; he <em> couldn’t </em> ; Hermann was under no illusions about <em> that </em> ; he was an awkward, snappish bore, and Newton only tolerated him this much because of his intelligence. Hermann was aware he wasn’t good looking, especially in comparison to Newton himself, and the concept of Newton being interested in him, truly, was—well, <em> ludicrous </em>.</p><p>Still; it was nice to <em> pretend </em>, for a few moments, that it could, somehow, be true; that the softness in Newton’s gaze was because of him, and for him, rather than merely because Newton is a damnably soft man.</p><p>Hermann wished he could kiss him, but he knew better, so he didn’t.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt hadn’t meant to ask Hermann to dance but his brain has been scrambled ever since the drifts and what had been left of his impulse control was long gone. So, he was as surprised as Hermann when he heard himself ask, and twice as shocked when Hermann had agreed. But once they were in the moment, waltzing next to all the other couples, it made sense. They made sense. Hermann looked at him with an affection that felt so familiar like somehow it had always been there but he hadn’t been able to see it. It reminded him of when he first got glasses and realized that he could see the leaves on trees. </p><p>Maybe the drift was good for more than just saving the world. </p><p>They left the dance floor after one song and he pretended not to see the thumbs up Tendo gave him. Suddenly the party wasn’t half as bad as it had been and while he was still watching the clock to see the moment he could leave, the moments until then were a little less painful. He stuck close to Hermann, reveling in the way he didn’t shy away from Newt like he used to. He kept looking over at Hermann and every time Hermann glanced back at him Newt smiled wide only to have Hermann scoff and turn away. Newt decided after the third time that he wasn’t making up the blush that had spread down his neck. </p><p>Five minutes to their agreed escape time Hermann got caught in a conversation with someone about the Mark-1 programming and how he envisioned it being implemented now that the major threat was out of the way. It was a mostly pleasant conversation from what Newt could tell but there were moments when genuine anger would wash over him that he was pretty sure wasn't his. Too bad he hadn’t been paying attention when the man had approached and missed his name, he’d been too focused on deciding which of the ballroom doors to escape from. By the time they finally broke apart it had been half an hour and Newt only had to glance at Hermann to get confirmation that it was time to go. </p><p>With a glance around the room, he saw that most everyone he knew was already gone, excluding Herc, Mako, and Raleigh. Though he wasn’t sure how much more they could take either. Herc looked dead on his feet, Mako was looking worried about him, and Raleigh looked like he hadn’t looked at a suit since his Fallon interview in 2019.</p><p>The crowd thinned the further away from the ballroom they got and by the time they were getting into an elevator, they were alone. Hermann leaned back against the wall with a heavy sigh as soon as the doors shut. </p><p>“Be a little more dramatic,” Newt said with a cheeky grin. Hermann didn’t even open his eyes to glare at Newt. </p><p>The ride up was silent and their floor was empty when the doors shut. It was nice, the real silence. In the Shatterdome, there was always noise and it constantly competed with Newt and his brain so for a while it was nice to have nothing but the sound of Hermann’s feet shuffling on the ugly carpet. </p><p>In the room Hermann made a beeline for the bathroom, only stopping to scoop up the pajamas that he had laid out on his bed before they had left. The shower started not a second later. Newt decided to change into his sweats and t-shirt and double-check that the heating was right because Hermann ran cold and the Shatterdome had two modes, freezer and oven, so Newt knew Hermann would want to appreciate a nice temperature while he could. </p><p>After the shower was off and Hermann came back out Newt went in to brush his teeth and take off his makeup. When he was finished Hermann was already in bed, probably drifting to sleep. “Want me to turn off the light?”</p><p>“Yes, please,” the bundle of blankets on Hermann’s bed said. </p><p>Newt did and his next question he whispered without meaning to. “Can I turn on the TV for a while?” </p><p>“Please keep it quiet,” Hermann said, readjusting the pillow, probably to cover his ears.</p><p>Newt tucked himself into bed, propping himself up against the backboard and turned on the TV. There were a lot of things he didn’t care about but the thing he decided to watch was the Bachelor with English subtitles on and only enough volume to hear the most dramatic of music cues. Hermann sighed and turned a little to see what was going on on-screen. “What are you watching?”</p><p>“The Bachelor. Haven’t seen a season since like twenty-thirteen so I might as well start catching up.”</p><p>“I can’t believe they still make this show with everything going on,” Hermann grumbled before burrowing back into his nest. </p><p>“People have to escape somewhere, dude,” Newt said but the conversation seemed over so he just settled in and tried to figure out who was who. It was pretty late in the season with only four girls left so it was a little bit of a mess trying to figure out what was going on but it was worth it. Newt was a sucker for love, even the cheap vaguely synthetic kind that the Bachelor produced, it was still nice to see and to suspend disbelief for a while. </p><p>It also made him a little brave, maybe more than he should have been. It made him put a little too much faith in the idea of true love and soul mates and that you just needed to be in the right place at the right time with the right person and everything would fall into place.  Some place, like in the middle of a crushed city next to a kaiju corpse. Some time, like right after you’ve been chased down by a kaiju and need someone to take some of the neural load so your brain doesn’t turn into scrambled eggs. Some person, that you’ve known for a decade, that was your rock through the war for everyone’s lives, and who’s your best friend. </p><p>“Hey, Hermann,” Newt said, whispering just in case Hermann was already asleep.</p><p>“Yes, Newton?”</p><p>“Would you date me?” </p><p>For a long time the room was nearly silent, just the sound of commercials playing so low that actual words couldn’t be made out anymore. “Yes.”</p><p>Newt couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his throat or the happy tears that spread to his eyes. “Really?”</p><p>“Of course. Now may I go back to sleep?” Hermann sounded grumpy but Newt was still smiling. He didn’t want to push his luck on their first night as a couple by waking Hermann up for some kissing and cuddling. He wanted to be a good boyfriend and sometimes that meant sleeping in a different bed because they’re both already tucked in and the beds are far too narrow to sleep comfortably. </p><p>“Yeah. Need me to turn off the TV?”</p><p>“No, it’s perfectly fine. Goodnight, Newton.”</p><p>“Night, Herms. Sweet dreams,” he whispered without taking his eyes off of the lump of blankets on the other bed. </p><p>Hermann just grunted in response.</p><p>In the morning Newt woke to the sound of Hermann’s alarm. For a moment he was irritated until he remembered that he hadn’t just been woken by Hermann’s alarm, he had been woken by his <em> boyfriend’s </em> alarm. He was suddenly fully awake and jumping out of bed. </p><p>Hermann glared at him from his blanket. “You’re far too chipper this morning,” he grumbled. </p><p>Newt laughed and smiled at him, going to sit on the edge of his bed. “Some days are just good, Herm.”</p><p>“We have a five-hour flight back to Hong Kong today, I would not define it as a good day,” Hermann said with a push against Newt’s hip. </p><p>Newt took the hint and stood up, stretching his back, still unable to stop smiling. “I’m gonna shower real quick.”</p><p>“Very well. I will find us a table for breakfast downstairs, join me when you’re done,” Hermann said, which was exactly what he had said to Newt the day before. Something about it made Newt a little warm, they were managing to skip all the awkwardness when shifting from a platonic to a romantic relationship; like they had always been together but had never put words to it. </p><p>Newt went around to the bathroom, grabbing some of his clothes on the way while Hermann worked through his morning stretches. As he passed by he was tempted to kiss Hermann’s cheek, but the man’s face was twisted in discomfort as he twisted his back. “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone,” Newt said with a wink.</p><p>“Somehow I will manage without you,” Hermann grunted. </p><p>Newt showered while humming the love song he had written for Hermann when they’d been exchanging letters. He was careful to style his hair perfectly and cleaned up his stubble just enough that his scruffy look looked purposeful. With a splash of the expensive cologne from the night before, Newt decided that he looked good enough for his first meal with Hermann as boyfriends. It wasn’t a date and Hermann had seen him at worse but he still wanted to dress up for him a little. Hermann had already left for breakfast as expected and Newt pulled his boots on to follow him down. </p><p>Downstairs, Hermann was sitting at a small table alone looking at the menu looking extra cute in his green sweater vest and no suit jacket. “I like that sweater,” Newt said as he sat down across from him. </p><p>“The last time I wore it you said I looked like a snapping turtle,” Hermanns said without looking up from the menu. </p><p>Newt opened his mouth to argue but he did remember saying that. “You do. But like a cute snapping turtle.”</p><p>Hermann lowered the menu enough to glare at Newt. </p><p>Newt glared back even though he was still smiling. “What are you having?”</p><p>“An omelet.”</p><p>“That sounds good,” Newt said.</p><p>“Don’t pretend you’re having anything other than pancakes. I’ve known you for ten years and every time we have breakfast out you have pancakes,” Hermann said. </p><p>“The Shatterdome pancakes are awful. I have to get my fix somewhere.”</p><p>“I’m aware of what you are calling reasoning,” Hermann said. “You tell me every time you try the Shatterdome pancakes and are disappointed.”</p><p>“Doesn’t make it less true.”</p><p>The waiter arrived and took their orders leaving them without anything to focus on but each other. It made Newt’s stomach flutter—maybe they hadn’t bypassed the awkwardness completely. </p><p>“So, how’d you sleep last night?” Newt asked, feeling as though he were outside of his own body. He had never been suave but he was usually better than that.</p><p>“Fine. I will be happy to be back in my own bed tonight. You snore terribly,” Hermann said, sipping his tea. </p><p>“I’m not that bad.”</p><p>Hermann arched a brow. “If you say so.”</p><p>“I do say so. I can’t be the worst snorer of your partners,” Newt said, trying not to feel weird. People didn’t break up because one person snored. </p><p>“I will admit to not often sleeping around my lab partners so I suppose I wouldn’t know.”</p><p>Newt couldn’t help feeling like they were talking at cross purposes but he brushed it off. They had talked about it last night; he didn't need to rehash their relationship every day just because he got a little confused. Hermann was probably just shooting for normal so that they weren’t jumping into something too fast. They’d had a decade of being friends: the smart thing was to slow down and take it one step at a time. Newt could do that, he could go one step at a time, for Hermann.</p><p>They ate their breakfast without much excitement. Newt’s pancakes were delicious and he only stole one bite of Hermann’s omelet but that was good too. They each had a second cup of coffee and tea respectively before they went back upstairs to pack, they had a flight to catch after all. </p><p>Packing was more work than it should have been since they had only been in town one full day but all their things had mixed together on the bathroom counter and for a minute Newt lost the left shoe of his new nice pair of shoes. It was nice and domestic and reminded Newt of all the times he paced around his side of the lab looking for the ruler he left on Hermann’s side two days before. Once they were packed, they did one more glance over the room, standing close to each other. As Hermann turned to him to say they were ready, Newt took his shot. He leaned in close and kissed Hermann’s lips fast and soft before backing up again, ignoring his hot face as he opened the door. “Let’s go or we’ll miss the shuttle.”</p>
<hr/><p>They caught the shuttle in decent enough time; Newton was oddly quiet, though he didn’t seem to be upset, so Hermann tried to ignore it. He was still slightly confused and uncertain of how to act in Newton’s presence—after the morning and Newton’s—well, <em> that </em> —Hermann had retreated behind the cover of normalcy, waiting for Newton to make a move and—God, <em> explain </em> himself, maybe.</p><p>Newton hadn’t said anything though; and he’d always been very <em> tactile </em>; maybe he just...well, maybe Hermann was just the closest person at hand. Or—Hermann didn’t even know, actually. He was going to wait and see—let Newton set the pace.</p><p>Hopefully, it was...<em> real </em>. He wasn’t about to put any money on it, but...maybe there was hope.</p><p>“Want a cookie?” Newton offered, after they sat down on the plane, digging around through his carry-on. “I’ve got, uh...raisin, chocolate-chip, and snickerdoodle.” </p><p>“...I’m alright, thank you,” Hermann said, after a moment.</p><p>Newton shrugged. “Whatever you want, man,” he said, and sat up, laying his loot on the pullout tray; dug through his pockets for something else. “Uh,” he said, almost tentatively, “I bought you some gum at the little cafe. For, uh—your ears. So they don’t pop.”</p><p>The last bit ended with his voice raised; he looked anxious, almost; waiting for Hermann’s reaction. For his part, Hermann was—well, <em> surprised </em>; he’d mentioned this years ago, in their letters, when the topic of travelling came up. The fact that Newton remembered it...</p><p>“Thank you,” he said, and accepted the offered packet of gum; inspected it, momentarily, and then opened it; unwrapped a few sticks. “Oh,” he said, a moment later, when the flavour hit him, “that’s...<em> tropical </em>.”</p><p>The biologist grinned sheepishly. “I know you miss tropical fruits, so,” he spread his fingers in an opening motion, “tada.”</p><p>“Mmm,” said Hermann, a bit overcome, and turned to stare at the seatbelt sign, trying to force the prickling heat of tears to go away. It must just be the changing altitude, he tried to convince himself. </p><p>For most of the rest of the flight, they sat in silence; Hermann read a book Karla sent him a few months back, and Newton played some card games on the screen in the back of the seat in front of him—he was fairly good at solitaire, Hermann noted, with something almost like pride; he taught Newton how to play that, years ago, drunk one night in the lab after everyone else had already gone back to their quarters.</p><p>After that, they ate a meal provided by the flight attendants, and Newton said, as he struggled to open a packet of seasoning, “D’you wanna watch something t’gether?”</p><p>It was hardly an odd proposal—they did something similar every so often anyway, but something about it—the unfamiliar environment, maybe, or, more likely, the <em> incident </em> earlier which Newton <em> still </em> hadn’t made any move to discuss yet—made Hermann’s stomach turn to a nest of writhing snakes.</p><p>He was about to refuse, just out of habit, before he took a second to really, truly consider it. After a moment of thinking, he nodded his head. “So long as it’s nothing too gratuitously violent, I think I could...<em> enjoy </em> it,” he said.</p><p>The expression on Newton’s face, a moment earlier reading <em> trepidation </em> , morphed to something more... <em> elated </em>. “Sweet!” he cheered—in a whisper; the lights were mostly off, and many of the other passengers were resting—, and said, “here, you find the movie—I’ll dig a pair of earbuds out from my bag.”</p><p>As Newton looked for them, Hermann perused the in-flight cinema offerings. There were quite a few biopics about various Jaeger pilots, a fictionalised version of Caitlin Lightcap and her team’s work on the Mark I’s, and, unsurprisingly, a whole host of kaiju-genre movies. There were also some comedies and a few drama and mystery-genre films, and it was one of those that caught his eye—something about a mix-up in souls getting sent to the afterlife; not terribly interesting in and of itself, but better than the others.</p><p>Newton plugged the earbuds in and offered him one of them, and Hermann took it. Newton’s newfound consideration might have seemed a bit odd, but Hermann wasn’t about to complain. He hit play.</p><p>It <em> was </em> boring, as it turned out; so much so that he was nearly drifting off at points, but Newton seemed to enjoy it, glued to the screen, gasping at the jokes, totally unaware, it seemed, of his surroundings, and Hermann found himself watching <em> him </em> rather than the movie.</p><p>At some point, Newton’s hand had found his, and his grip was gentle; skin warm against Hermann’s. The sensation was odd—not that Newton’d never touched him before, no, but there was usually a <em> reason </em> for it—an explanation. This was uncalled for, logically speaking.</p><p>Perhaps...perhaps it <em> wasn’t </em> , though; perhaps this was Newton’s gesture that, that—that the <em> incident </em>—wasn’t merely...wasn’t merely a one-off.</p><p>For the first time in a long, long time, Hermann dared, quietly, to hope.</p>
<hr/><p>When they got back to the Shatterdome, Hermann was half-asleep on his feet—he never did like air-travel, and part of it was because he could never <em> sleep </em>, and on long, already exhausting trips like this one, that was nearly untenable.</p><p>Newton was kind enough to let him lean on him on the way back to his quarters, where they deposited his bags, and then to the laboratory.</p><p>“Should probably throw out the kaiju samples now, huh?” Newton mused, looking over to his side of the lab. It’d only been a week or so since they closed the Breach, and some of his experiments were still going.</p><p>“Probably,” Hermann agreed. </p><p>Newton huffed; amusement, perhaps, but he couldn’t be sure. “Alright,” he said, and crossed the line dividing their sides of the laboratory.</p><p>For a moment, Hermann wanted to say something—ask <em> something </em>, though he wasn’t quite sure what, and after a moment, he came back to his senses; shook it off. Now wasn’t the time, he reminded himself. The War mightn’t be on anymore, but there was still work to do.</p><p>He resurfaced from his work a few hours later—there had been a knock on the door, and then the sound of someone entering; not Newton—he hadn’t left.</p><p>When he looked up, it was to find Newton grinning and chatting with a J-tech—tall, with a shock of red hair, a single streak of white dyed into it. The J-tech said something, and Newton laughed, leaning towards him, eyes screwing up, and he grabbed the other’s shoulder to steady himself. </p><p>Hermann rose; wondering what on Earth the man could want in the lab—it was rare for anyone to come in who wasn’t bringing kaiju samples, or the Marshal.</p><p>As he got closer, he heard the J-tech say, “Newt, god, no, wait, you’re going to fall over onto me—”</p><p>“As if that’d be a bad thing,” Newton countered, grinning widely, and winked.</p><p>Hermann stopped; swallowed.</p><p>So, then; Newton was <em> flirting </em> with this man. </p><p>Alright. That was—that was fine. After all, Hermann shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up like that in the first case. It probably <em> was </em> just a case of him being the closest person at hand—he knew how much Newton loved physical contact.</p><p>Newton’s gaze flicked over; spotting him. “Hermann!” he called, “stop skulking and come say hi!”</p><p>“I wasn’t <em> skulking </em>,” Hermann protested, and, reluctantly, took the last few steps to reach their side. </p><p>Newton made a disbelieving hum. “Sure,” he said. “Anyway, dude, Julian came to tell me about the work they’re doing with the recovered Jaegers—it’s pretty neat, I think you’d like it. You should look into it some time.”</p><p>“I should,” Hermann echoed, and then said, “er—excuse me, I have something to get back to.”</p><p>The biologist waved him off. “Sure, man, go ahead,” he said, “Julian’ll keep me company while you’re busy, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Julian said, amicably, and smiled at Hermann; open and easy.</p><p>He spent a few hours going over some of his older notes—nothing he really <em> needed </em> to do, but the action of flipping through pages was one that he could lose himself in, and, right then, it was something he really needed.</p><p>When he got through everything he could reasonably justify to himself as <em> work </em>, he chanced a look at Newton’s side of the lab.</p><p>Julian had long gone—the silence falling into place a few hours before had alerted him to that—, but his presence lingered still in the way Newton carried himself, and, for a moment, Hermann felt something like resentment before he reminded himself that was <em> horridly </em> unfair to Newton.</p><p>Newton, who had always seemed to know when Hermann was looking at him, looked up and caught his gaze; made a motion beckoning him over. Hermann rose and went over. “Do you need something, Newton?” he asked, politely, trying to keep his voice level and keep the roiling emotions hidden.</p><p>The other’s brow quirked for a moment before it smoothed out, and he said, “Yeah, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go out to eat tonight? On me,” he added, when Hermann opened his mouth to decline. </p><p>“...alright,” Hermann said, after a moment’s pause, “I suppose it would be nice to have someone else pick up the tab for once.”</p><p>Newton ducked his head at that; a half-guilty expression crossing his face. “Sorry, man,” he said, “consider this me atoning for my sins or whatever.”</p>
<hr/><p>It was an upscale place; not terribly large or flashy, but Hermann knew of its reputation. He wondered, briefly, why Newton had chosen <em> this </em> place instead of somewhere more affordable, but then remembered his earlier comment and realised that Newton probably wanted to pay off the perceived “debt” in one fell swoop.</p><p>When the waiter led them to their table—a small one, towards the back, away from the hubbub—, Newton pulled Hermann’s chair out for him before going to sit in his own.</p><p>Hermann frowned slightly to himself at that, but brushed it off as merely Newton being considerate of his leg.</p><p>“So,” Newton said, as they looked over their menus, “how are you?”</p><p>Hermann raised a brow at him. “Fine,” he said, shortly, “we’ve spent the entire day in the lab together—not much has changed in the half hour we spent apart.”</p><p>Newton hummed; seeming to take that into consideration, and returned to his menu.</p><p>Over the course of their meal, he asked some more questions, seemingly in an attempt to draw Hermann into a conversation, but, for once, Hermann shook off all of his attempts. He appreciated talking to Newton, yes, but right now he didn’t particularly want anything beyond shallow, surface-level conversation with him.</p><p>Eventually, Newton seemed to realise that, and stopped trying.</p><p>Once Hermann had finished his meal, though, Newton waived the waiter over. “One serving of black forest cherry cake, please,” he said, “and bring two forks, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“<em> Two? </em>” Hermann hissed, “Newton—”</p><p>“‘S more practical,” Newton said, “plus, dude, the serving sizes for their deserts are <em> huge </em>. It makes more sense to share one than to get two.”</p><p>Hermann grumbled a bit, and then said, haltingly, “Fine.”</p><p>That seemed to satisfy Newton, and he settled back into his seat with a hum.</p><p>As it turned out, the serving really <em> was </em> rather generous—and it wasn’t just cake, either; it was served with a side of vanilla ice-cream, when Newton attacked with glee before remembering Hermann’s presence and sheepishly offering him some.</p><p>Hermann shook his head. “I’m quite fine with just the cake,” he said, “it’s rather rich.”</p><p>“Alright, your loss,” Newton shrugged, and made quick work of the rest of the ice-cream.</p><p>Finally, after Newton paid the bill, they rose; full and contented and, in Hermann’s case, tired. Newton offered his arm, for which Hermann was rather grateful, and they made their way outside and back towards the Shatterdome.</p><p>When they got to Hermann’s door, they stopped, and Hermann let go of his arm; turned around, and said, after a moment of trying to figure out how to formulate his words, “Thank you, Newton. I had...<em> fun </em>.”</p><p>Newton beamed at him, and darted in for a quick, chaste press of lips against Hermann’s cheek. “Great!” he said. “G’night, Herms.”</p><p>Hermann reeled; heart beating rapidly; hurt, mostly—obviously, Newton saw him as nothing but a friend, and yet, he had still done <em> that </em>. He must have been unaware of Hermann’s emotions, but in spite of that thought, Hermann still felt stung; Newton, unknowingly, had rubbed salt into an old wound.</p><p>“Goodnight,” Hermann called after him, finally, voice a mere croak, but Newton was already around the corner, and probably out of earshot. He unlocked the door, entering the cold, impersonal room. For a moment, he longed for Newton’s touch, and then shook himself. He needed to get over his infatuation with the man—it’d never do him any good.</p>
<hr/><p>A kiss on the cheek. He’d kissed his boyfriend on the cheek after their first date. Why? Why did his gut twist so fiercely that the second Hermann said he’d had fun Newt lost every bit of conviction he’d had about lingering until Hermann initiated a kiss? Instead, he’d ducked in for the kiss and then practically ran away. </p><p>Newt leaned up against the wall just around the corner from where he’d left Hermann and tried to catch his breath. He’d wanted Hermann to kiss him, he’d wanted the man to initiate something in the relationship, so far Newt had done everything and he was starting to feel uncomfortable with that. He didn’t want to push Hermann too far or insist on anything but...he was starting to feel like Hermann wasn’t quite as invested as him, or interested at all. </p><p>As he stood with his back to the wall trying to calm his nerves he heard Hermann say “Goodnight,” and if Newt wasn’t hearing things it sounded a little shaky like Hermann had actually been affected. He tried to keep his sigh of relief quiet. It wasn’t the same as a kiss or actual words but it was a start.</p><p>He took another breath and gathered the rest of his senses. Tonight wasn’t the only night for him to find out if Hermann really cared for him, they had time.</p><p> He headed back to his room to do what any reasonable scientist would do: dissect the date to find any weak points to correct for next time. He was nothing if not a man of science. And science required repeated experiments and results. Hermann would probably appreciate that he was taking such a logical approach. </p><p>Once he had broken down everything from dinner he regrouped to make a plan for the next few days with one goal in mind: get Hermann to initiate anything in their relationship. A kiss, holding hands, a date, anything. But first, he needed more information. A little bit of Googling led him to a number of articles all with variations on the title “5 Ways to Tell If Someone Likes You.” </p><p>Eye contact wasn’t very useful because Newt himself hated eye contact even with the people he loved. He wasn’t even sure what his father’s eye color was. Or his own for that matter. So even if Hermann wanted to look him in the eye Newt would never notice. </p><p>The idea of touching was much more useful. Hermann could be standoffish at best but touching wasn’t rare, it was just Newt who usually instigated it so if he could bring Hermann to the edge maybe Hermann would bridge the last gap between them. </p><p>Leaning and mirroring weren’t going to be much help given they had drifted together less than a month ago but barriers—that he could work with. He left his room and headed to the lab even though it was nearing midnight. He moved aside the equipment that was on the tape and took out his knife. With some effort to get the blade actually under the tape, he pulled up just enough to get a grip. He crouched over it, braced himself and pulled. </p><p>The sound was deafening in the silence of the late night. The crackling of the tape echoed off the walls as Newt continued to pull it. He balled it up and tossed it in the trash, actually making it in the trash can for once, before looking down at the ground with a grin. There was still a line where the tape had been where no dirt and Blue had been able to stain the ground but it felt different. Cleaner somehow.</p><p>The next day Newt put his plan into action, he took extra care getting ready and timed his walk to the mess so that he would pass by Hermann’s door just as he left. </p><p>“Oh, good morning, Newton,” Hermann said as he almost bumped into Newt. </p><p>“Morning,” Newt said, stopping to wait for Hermann to lock his door so they could walk together. “How’d you sleep?”</p><p>“Fine. How are you?” Hermann asked, turning to walk to the mess side by side. </p><p>Newt made sure that he walked close enough to Hermann that their arms brushed every few steps. Hermann didn’t shy away but he also didn’t take Newt’s hand like he had been hoping. It wasn’t the worst outcome but it could have been better and he had to consciously ignore the knot that was starting to form in his stomach. It was okay, he had time. The world wasn’t ending anymore, they had all the time in the world. </p><p>After breakfast they went into the lab and Newt watched carefully as Hermann crossed over to his own side. He didn’t stop over the line or stare down for a long time or even look to Newt to see if he knew why the Line of Demarcation was suddenly gone. But he did pause, just for a second mid-stride as he stepped over. Newt was pretty sure that he hadn’t imagined the small smile on Hermann’s lips at the sight. </p><p>Two weeks later Newt’s experiments were giving what could be called mixed results at best. Sometimes Hermann leaned into his touch, sometimes he pulled away. Sometimes Hermann smiled at him when he made a dumb joke and sometimes he would yell at him for no reason. Hermann suggested they go see an exhibit on dinosaurs at the Hong Kong Science Museum but shut down for hours after Newt reminded him that the Science Museum had been closed since Leatherback’s foot took out the entire 2/F hall. </p><p>They still went on dates a few times a week but Hermann never gave much input on them besides “Yes, I will go to that movie with you,” or “Brunch sounds lovely.” It was starting to stress him out. They also hadn’t gone beyond more than the quick kisses, which wasn’t a problem per se, but Newt had dated plenty of people he had been friends with before they started dating and it had never taken quite so long to get to the...physical parts. It just made him <em> worry </em>.</p><p>“I don’t know what to do, man,” he complained to Tendo during a smoke break. He’d promised himself he would quit when the world was saved and he was down to only two a day, but the last two were proving to be a bitch to give up. </p><p>“I don’t know what to tell you,” Tendo said, as full of helpful hints as he’d ever been. “Maybe he’s as confused as you are. Have you tried talking to him?”</p><p>“What kind of loser asks their boyfriend ‘Hey, do you like me?’” </p><p>“The kind that values clear, open communication in the relationship?” </p><p>“Are you and Alison in therapy?” </p><p>“Kinda, my sister’s a therapist. You’d know that if you actually retained any information,” Tendo said. </p><p>Newt shrugged to say “fair enough.” </p><p>“Whenever I talk about issues with Alison she tells me to talk to her. Works like a charm.”</p><p>“You’re not dating Hermann,” Newt pointed out. </p><p>“Are you one hundred percent sure that you’re dating Hermann?”</p><p>“Yes! He just doesn't initiate and it makes me...”</p><p>Tendo shrugged again. “Maybe he just doesn’t know <em> how </em>. I can't imagine he’s been with a lot of people. Maybe he’s as clueless as you. Another reason to talk to him.”</p><p>Newt took one last drag from his cigarette. “Thanks, Tendo.” </p><p>“Sure thing.”</p><p>On his way back down to the lab Newt made a decision. Newt would keep initiating and he’d just be careful to watch for the signs that Hermann wasn’t having a good time, any hesitation and Newt would check with him, but he could take the reins if that was what Hermann needed from him. </p><p>Hermann was sitting at his desk when Newt walked in, typing away. Newt strode straight towards him, setting his hands on the back of his chair. “Dinner tonight?”</p><p>“Did you have somewhere in mind?” Hermann asked without taking his eyes off the display. </p><p>“The dumpling place was able to open back up the actual storefront again instead of that cart you hate sitting at,” Newt said. He’d found out two days ago and had been saving the news for just such an occasion. </p><p>“That sounds fantastic,” Hermann said. “I have some work to finish before we go.” </p><p>“Two hours enough?” </p><p>“Yes. That will be fine.” </p><p>“Pick you up from your desk in two hours then,” Newt said before leaning down close and pressing a long lingering kiss to Hermann’s jaw. Hermann hummed and when Newt pulled away his eyes were still closed. Maybe things weren’t so bad. </p><p>Two hours later they each pulled themselves away from their work and went to dinner. The dumpling place was packed and they waited for nearly forty-five minutes for seats but it was worth it. They had dumplings and drank beer and then shuffled off back to the ‘dome. </p><p>Newt walked Hermann back to his room as usual but instead of the quick kiss on the cheek he’d taken after every one of their nights out over the past few weeks he leaned in slowly and kissed Hermann the way he had been wanting to for years. To his relief, because there had been some uncertainty there, Hermann kissed him back as if he had been feeling that same longing for those same years. </p><p>It was lasting forever in the best way and the world outside the hallway had faded away. But they were still in a hallway and Newt knew Hermann well enough that he’d be embarrassed for days if they were caught making out in the hall like teenagers. “Do you want to go inside?” Newt asked, diving back into the kiss before Hermann had the chance to answer. </p><p>For a long while more they just kept kissing in the hall and Newt wouldn’t let Hermann go long enough to actually answer. Finally, Hermann placed his hands on Newt’s shoulders and pressed just enough that Newt stopped and pulled away. “I want to but I don’t have any...”</p><p>“I have some, at mine. If you want. We don’t have...”</p><p>“I want to. If you want to,” Hermann said, taking Newt’s hand and twining their fingers together. </p><p>“Hell yeah. Let’s go,” Newt said, only taking one more short kiss before he led Hermann down the hall to his room. </p>
<hr/><p>Hermann woke with a start. For a moment, he was confused—he felt far warmer and more comfortable than he had in a while, and there was a pleasant buzz in his mind; one he couldn’t quite pin down.</p><p>Then, like a bucket of ice-water had been dumped on his mind, his memories sputtered and surfaced, leaving him frozen like a deer in the headlights. Last night...</p><p>He and Newton had gone out to eat—it’d been a nice meal, nothing too fancy; but when they had returned to the Shatterdome, Newton had invited him into his quarters; smiling slyly, a hand on his lower back; breath warm against Hermann’s cheek.</p><p>And then...<em> oh </em>. Well, that had been—very nice.</p><p>He blinked, trying to rid his vision of some of its blurriness, and shifted slightly, coming face to face with Newton’s sleeping form.</p><p>The biologist was naked as the day he had been born—hardly surprising, but Hermann still felt a fierce blush creep over his skin, and, in an attempt to—God, what, provide Newton some <em> privacy? </em>—he diverted his gaze to the ceiling.</p><p>It was...<em> nice </em> , in all honesty; laying there, with the illusion of calmness and tranquility; and for a scant moment, he considered staying; laying there until—what, Newton woke and found he’d not <em> left? </em></p><p>No; that was a <em> terrible </em> idea. If Newton was willing to—to <em> sleep </em> with him after a cheap night out, then obviously, he didn’t particularly have much interest in <em> Hermann </em> ; had, in all likelihood, merely gone for <em> Hermann </em> because Hermann was the closest at hand, and willing.</p><p>He didn’t know about Hermann’s own feelings—he <em> couldn’t </em>; Hermann had done his best to keep them under lock and key, even when Newton’s growing tactility had made it hard or, in some cases, nearly impossible.</p><p>But still, he <em> had </em> , and he was, in some way, <em> proud </em> of himself for that. No one needed his emotions—especially not Newton; they were messy and inelegant and, keyly, <em> unrequited </em>.</p><p>Newton let out a rasping exhalation, and Hermann jolted out of his thoughts. </p><p>God, he had to be going before Newton woke up—it was already coming up on seven.</p><p>Carefully, and as quietly as he could, Hermann untangled himself from the sheets and Newton’s grip—at some point during the night, one of Newton’s hands had found their way to his, and one of his arms was thrown over Hermann’s torso. Hermann knew, of course, there wasn’t any greater meaning to it—it was normal human behaviour to gravitate towards another in sleep.</p><p>Eventually, though, he managed it; pushed himself up and hunted around the room for his clothing, and was very glad to find that he had, at least, had the presence of mind to put it all in one pile, even if it was on the floor and most of the items were rumpled and creased.</p><p>He put them back on as quickly as he could, his leg protesting all the while, but he bit his tongue and willed himself forward; he couldn’t afford to stop and stretch <em> now </em> , in Newton’s <em> quarters </em>; every extra minute he spent in there was another minute for Newton to wake up and—God, Hermann didn’t want to think about that.</p><p>Hopefully, they could put this behind them; brush it off as merely a one-night mistake, fueled by a mutual longing for contact, and not have it affect their working relationship—the War might have been over, but the work they were doing was still important, and it would be disastrous if they became less productive because of <em> this </em>, of all things.</p><p>Finally, though, he was dressed, and, picking up his cane from where he had laid it, he slipped quietly out the door and into the hall, making his way to his own quarters.</p><p>Thankfully, he didn’t run into anyone along the way; able to slink to his quarters, head bowed, in silent shame without any onlookers.</p><p>After taking his medication, he went through his stretches, and then took a shower and changed into a clean set of clothes—he did have to get to work eventually, after all, and he didn’t particularly fancy doing so looking like he’d, to use Newton’s turn of phrase, <em> gone for a tumble in the hay </em> , even if that was, technically speaking, <em> true </em>.</p><p>By the time he’d got done with it, his thoughts had slowed their frenetic pace somewhat, for which he was quite glad; worrying about the ramifications of this wasn’t going to do him any good—what was done was done, and all he could do now was try and act like nothing had happened and hope that their dynamic hadn’t been affected by it.</p><p>For a moment, just before he crossed the threshold into the lab, he allowed himself to fantasise of a different world; one where he would walk in and Newton would turn to smile sunnily at him and say something ridiculous like, “Good morning, handsome,” and Hermann would smile back and make his way over to press a lingering kiss to Newton’s lips and remember waking up with Newton, warm and soft, by his side.</p><p>With a quick shake of his head, he banished the image. It wouldn’t do him any good to imagine impossible things—Newton wasn’t terribly interested in him beyond friendship and work, and Hermann understood that.</p><p>He stepped over the threshold and made his way to his desk.</p><p>Newton didn’t get there until an hour or so later; by then, Hermann had managed to almost forget the morning, and immerse himself in his work.</p><p>“Morning, Herms!” Newton called, and Hermann looked up; scowled, when he found Newton hadn’t even bothered to change into new clothes, his hair sticking up every-which way; honestly, the way he acted, one would think he <em> wanted </em> everyone in the Shatterdome to know.</p><p>“Newton,” he said, nodding curtly, and turned back to his work. “Your, ah, new specimens should be ready for the next stage.”</p><p>There was a silence; when he looked up, Newton was frowning; the cheer that had been in his frame and expression only moments before gone, and he was giving Hermann an odd look.</p><p>Hermann cleared his throat. “Was there something you wanted to say, Newton?” he asked; pointedly. If they <em> had </em> to have this conversation, it’d be best to get it out of the way as soon as possible.</p><p>“Uh—nope,” Newton said, after a beat; and moved towards Hermann. “Just—are you done with the—” he indicated the papers on Hermann’s desk.</p><p>“What—oh,” Hermann nodded. “Yes, I’m done with those, you can have them back.”</p><p>“Great,” Newton murmured, and moved closer; reaching out to grab them. When he pulled back, he smiled at Hermann and reached out, as if looking to—what, touch Hermann’s face? Place his hand on Hermann’s shoulder?</p><p>Instinctively, Hermann shied away from it; and something almost like <em> hurt </em> flashed across Newton’s face before his expression settled into one of calm neutrality; the change fast enough that, after a second, Hermann was sure he had only imagined it—after all, that was the logical explanation.</p><p>“There’s something on your neck,” Newton said, after a beat, and, papers in hand, made his way back to his own side of the laboratory,</p><p>Hermann checked his reflection in the black of the idle computer screen. There was a single, red mark, just below his jawline; one that he suddenly, distinctively, remembered acquiring the night before.</p><p>He flushed; cheeks heating; tugged his collar up in what he knew was a futile action, and resolved to go back to his quarters and fetch a scarf as soon as possible, hoping that no one <em> else </em>would notice it before then.</p>
<hr/><p>Hermann spent a good portion of the day avoiding Newton—or at least, as much as he was able to, considering that they <em> worked </em> together and shared a lab. Thankfully, the biologist seemed to have gotten the message that Hermann very much did <em> not </em> want to address the events of the previous night.</p><p>This didn’t, however, stop him from <em> thinking </em> about them—and imagining a world where it was something that could be <em> repeated </em>, before he would catch himself and remind himself, sternly, that foolish fantasies never did anyone any good.</p><p>It was this frame of mind he was in, still, hours later, when he wandered into the empty command bay in LOCCENT. He’d been having trouble drifting off to sleep—his bed had been too <em> cold </em> without a certain biologist by his side, and God, the thought of it hurt—, and had decided to take a walk to try and clear his head.</p><p>The empty desks, the holodisplays turned off, lent a liminal feeling to it, and Hermann, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, found himself drawn to it.</p><p>“Rough night?”</p><p>He nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice; turned to find the J-tech from the other day—Julian. He had a stack of papers in one hand, and smiled commiseratingly at Hermann. The sight of him, for a moment, brought something ugly rising up in Hermann’s chest before he reminded himself that there was no point to it, and the bitterness was misdirected—Julian had shown himself to be nothing but amicable.</p><p>“Er—” Hermann considered denying it; and then decided there was no point. “A bit,” he admitted. </p><p>The J-tech hummed. “Something with Newt?” he asked; softly; and Hermann startled; staring at him, wide-eyed. He grinned. “Everyone knows the two of you guys are best buds, Gottlieb—it was just a logical guess. You guys get into a bad fight or something?”</p><p>“I...you could put it that way,” Hermann sighed; smiling resignedly at the knowledge that Newton and his—well, <em> whatever </em> it was; friendship, maybe—was well known enough that someone he’d only met once could figure out that a rift in it was what had been bothering him. “We...God,” he laughed, the sound trailing off; and then, because he wasn’t sure he could stand much more, sat in one of the chairs.</p><p>Julian hummed in an unvoiced offer to go on; and, surprising even himself, Hermann took it; the words spilling forth from him with an unusual honesty to a man who was practically a stranger.</p><p>By the end of it, Julian had pulled up a chair by his side. “That sucks,” he murmured, and reached out a hand to cover Hermann’s; comforting. </p><p>“I just—” Hermann gave a soft huff; feeling a bit relieved to have gotten it off his chest, some, but still, the ache persisted— “God, I don’t know what to <em> do </em>, I suppose. Obviously it was a one-off...” He trailed off.</p><p>Julian hummed. “Well, maybe you need to—put yourself out there?” he suggested. “Try and, uh, move on? I mean, since it sounds like <em> he </em> has. Um,” he looked away; a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I might not be Newt, but I can show you a good time, if you want.”</p><p>Hermann stilled; surprised, and, for a moment, nearly said no on habit, before he truly considered it. Perhaps...perhaps this might work—he might be able to get over Newton. Julian was nice enough, after all, and he’d just spent an hour listening to Hermann spill his woes—there were worse people to date.</p><p>“I...thank you,” he said, finally. “That...yes, that might be nice, I think.”</p><p>Julian grinned. “Sweet,” he said, and pulled out a pen and a pad of sticky-notes from the desk by them, and scribbled something down. “Here’s my number—let me know when you’re free? We can go for a bit—I know this nice sushi place that just opened.”</p><p>Hermann returned the smile, though more tentatively. “I will,” he said, taking the sticky-note, and rose. “Ah—I ought to get to bed, I think. It’s late.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Gottlieb,” Julian said, and met his gaze one last time before rising as well.</p><p>“Goodnight,” Hermann returned, and they went their separate ways.</p><p>Later, once he was back in bed, he tried not to think about the last time he had tried to get over his infatuation with a biologist who had turned out to be nothing like Hermann had expected: about how the string of short-lived boyfriends he'd gone to bed with for the next year or so had done nothing to quell the ache that he felt in the very marrow of his bones.</p><p>This time would be different. It <em> had </em> to be.</p><p>The next day, he had almost forgotten about the events of the previous night until, at lunch, he returned to his room to fetch some notes he’d left there and caught sight of the sticky-note on top of his desk.</p><p>The sight of it made something like a hopeful smile rise on his lips; and he plucked it up, taking it with him along with his notes back to the lab. Over the next few hours, in the lulls between inputting data and the systems projecting back models, he added Julian’s number to his phone, and by the time the end of the day came, they’d been conversing in short snippets for at least three hours.</p><p>“Who’re you texting?” Newton asked, sidling over the line to lean over the back of Hermann’s chair; the carefully-maintained physical distance from the day before thrown out the window. He snatched up one of Hermann’s pens from his desk and clicked it, rapid-fire.</p><p>Hermann scowled. “Quit it,” he snapped, and then: “and I have a <em> date </em>, you’ll be pleased to know, given you’ve spent years nagging me to—what was it? Ah, right: ‘put myself out there’.”</p><p>There was a silence.</p><p>“Oh,” said Newton. “Okay.”</p><p>His voice was oddly flat, and he dropped the pen back onto Hermann’s desk, and pulled away so that Hermann could no longer feel the warmth that seemed to constantly radiate from his skin. “Have fun,” he said, and the words were no longer as flat; he offered a half-smile. “You deserve it.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Hermann said, bizarrely pleased that Newton seemed to approve, and turned back to his work, chalking up the lack of rambling from the biologist when he returned to his side as exhaustion.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt left the lab earlier than normal that night. He’d stopped being able to focus on anything that wasn’t Hermann almost as soon as he had said he had a date. He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to figure out what was going on. He’d thought Hermann would at least acknowledge him and their night, not brush him off like any other day. And then the next day Hermann was making dates with other people? It didn’t seem the way he had imagined a relationship between them, not in the slightest. </p><p>He understood of course that a real relationship would be different from his fantasies of running away together to live in the woods where Hermann could do theoretical physics and Newt could study ecosystems that had been less disturbed by people. But he hadn’t known Hermann would get that upset over a hickey. He hadn't known Hermann would shut down any mention of their time together. He hadn’t known they were in an open relationship. </p><p>As he sat and tried to breathe through the pain in his chest he convinced himself it made sense. They hadn’t had much of any conversation about their relationship since the night in the hotel room so it was possible that Hermann just had different ideas of what he wanted. Maybe Hermann was polyamorous and it had just never come up. Newt understood that he was far from perfect so maybe there were parts of him that just weren’t enough for Hermann. Or Hermann’s definition of what they were was more drastically different from what Newt had assumed. Maybe “boyfriend” had been too strong of a word for what they were.</p><p>He didn’t know what to do. Tendo would just tell him to talk to Hermann but the thought of it made Newt’s stomach drop. What if Hermann took Newt asking as Newt pushing and decided he was better off with this person that Newt didn’t even know the fucking name of? He put his head in his hands and groaned. Their friendship had always balanced on a razor's edge and now their relationship did too. It was killing him. </p><p>With a deep breath Newt reminded himself that Tendo was probably right, his advice was at least coming from a source other than Newt’s anxiety-riddled brain. Tomorrow he would ask Hermann what it was that he had in mind for their relationship, just to get some ground rules so that everyone knew what was happening. That was good and normal and healthy...and logical to boot. Hermann couldn’t argue with him when he was being logical. It was practically his love language.</p><p>The next day Newt got dressed a little more thoughtfully than usual just so that Hermann would be being presented with the question and his best self all at once. It’d be no good to push Hermann if he was also wearing his most stained jeans. He put on a little bit of make-up, spent too much time on his hair, and fiddled with which tie to wear for so long that he realized that he was actively stalling. </p><p>With all his dallying around Newt missed Hermann in the mess hall for breakfast and didn’t see him until he came into the lab. “Morning, Herm,” he said, trying to keep his voice level and normal. His stomach was twisted in knots that he tried to soothe with a reminder that he would ask Hermann at lunch so there was no reason to be anxious at eight in the morning. </p><p>“Good morning, Newton,” Hermann said without looking away from his chalkboard. At least he wasn’t still texting, Newt wasn’t sure he could take the sight of Hermann smiling at his phone again. </p><p>Newt got to work and after the first twenty minutes he was able to focus on his work again without worrying if he was going to get dumped over lukewarm mashed potatoes. Around noon the movement of Hermann climbing down from his board caught his eye and Hermann turned to him with a smile that seemed hesitant for a reason Newt couldn’t fathom. “Will you be joining me for lunch?”</p><p>“Yeah, give me two minutes to put away samples,” Newt said with a smile that he didn’t feel. The knot was back and he was having trouble breathing around the lump that had lodged in his throat. It was time and he would do it. He had to, for his own sanity. Hermann would respect that, he would. </p><p>When he was finished they walked side by side to the mess hall, when Newt brushed his hand up against Hermann’s as they walked, for the first time in weeks Hermann pulled away. Maybe it was just a bad touch day; everyone had those. </p><p>Once they each had their food Newt took a drink, but before he could say anything, Hermann looked up at him, obviously nervous. “Would you do me a favor? You’re under no obligation of course, but I would appreciate your assistance,” Hermann asked, forcing himself to look at Newt’s face. </p><p>“Of course. What is it?” Newt asked, pretending he wasn’t relieved to have something else to talk about. He could just ask over dinner instead, it was fine. </p><p>“I have my date with Julian tonight and you are more experienced than I am in matters like this so I was hoping you would be willing to assist me in...picking out an outfit,” Hermann said, face bright red. </p><p>Newt felt his face fall for a moment before he recovered. Okay, he could deal with this. It was at least closer to what he remembered when he had been with Alan and one of them had had a date with someone else. “Of course. We’ll make you look fine as hell for your date. Not that you don’t already,” Newt added with a wink. </p><p>Hermann nodded once with a tense smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”</p><p>“Of course. What time is your date? That way we have time,” Newt asked, shoving food in his mouth even though it felt like sawdust. </p><p>“He’s meeting me at my room at seven to take me to dinner and then a movie.” </p><p>“Oh cool, gives us plenty of time. Not that you need it, he’s lucky to be going out with you at all.”</p><p>Hermann smiled and ducked his head. “Thank you, Newton.”</p><p>They got through the rest of lunch with just a few words about work and then walked back together. Newt did not try to brush his hand against Hermann’s as they walked.</p><p>At five-thirty Newt started to pack up for the day and then when six hit he was ready to go when Hermann turned to him. “Lead the way,” Newt said, following Hermann even though he knew the way to his room just as well as his own. </p><p>Newt had only ever been in Hermann’s room for a few seconds when they were in the middle of an argument and Newt hadn’t been willing to let it go until Hermann had pushed him out and closed the door on him. It was weird to be welcomed in. </p><p>Hermann showed him a few shirts that he had and Newt couldn’t help but notice that while some of them he had worn to their dates there were one or two that Newt had never seen before. He tried not to think too much into that. One of them was even uglier than Hermann’s usual style so maybe it was just that Hermann didn’t like them. Newt pushed down the jealous part of him that desperately wanted to put Hermann in the ugliest outfit possible and focused on Hermann’s happiness. It was essential that Hermann was happy. </p><p>They decided on a blue button-up with the first button undone to show that Hermann was being “casual” and a light jacket to fight against the chill. Newt had been tempted to offer up his leather jacket but staking a claim was the opposite of what he was supposed to be doing. Newt combed Hermann’s hair so that it wasn’t quite the most grandpa haircut that either of them had ever seen and smiled at his handiwork. “Lookin’ good,” Newt said from behind him as they both looked in the mirror. </p><p>“Thank you, Newton. Truly,” Hermann said, placing a hand on Newt’s bicep. </p><p>“Of course, I’m here for you. Always,” Newt said, catching a glance at the clock. Five ‘till seven. “I should go, he’s gonna be here any minute.”</p><p>Hermann turned to look at the clock and then nodded as he turned back to Newt. “Yes. Thank you.”</p><p>Newt didn’t bother answering again, just wrapped Hermann in a tight hug that Hermann actually returned. He counted to five before he forced himself to start pulling away, turning his head a little to kiss Hermann’s cheek as he did. “Good luck.” He didn’t wait for Hermann to say anything as he slipped out of the room and went down the hall. He turned the corner and leaned up against the wall to watch the domed mirror that allowed the supply cart drivers to see around the corners to wait for Julian to show. </p><p>For a while Newt’s breath was caught and he was trying to calculate how late the man could be before Newt could swoop in and declare that Hermann had been stood up and that Julian was a piece of shit that Hermann could do way better than. But right at seven the elevator doors opened and a man with bright red hair exited, checking his phone before knocking on Hermann’s door. Newt didn’t wait to see Hermann open the door. </p><p>He went back to his room, showered and then sat on the edge of his bed in his favorite hoodie and a pair of boxers. He looked at the clock and even though it was only seven twenty he turned off the light and laid down. He was tired and it was only right to sleep when you’re tired, there was no reason to examine any deeper than that. </p>
<hr/><p>Over the course of the next three months, Hermann went on a handful of more dates with Julian. He’d had more active relationships in the past—in uni, mostly—, but the pace of it is good, and, frankly, he prefers it.</p><p>Julian’s very nice, and considerate of Hermann, and though Hermann isn’t over Newton—God, how could he be, when he works with him in the day and dreams of him at night?—he could see himself getting there, eventually, with Julian.</p><p>Tonight, Hermann had picked the place; a nice, but quiet patisserie shop that served the best lemon scones in the city—Julian was rather partial to citrus, as Hermann learnt on their second date, and never passed up a chance to eat something with it.</p><p>They had already eaten dinner; their shifts didn’t quite line up, so they’d decided to go out for a light something afterwards, hence the patisserie.</p><p>Hermnan was nibbling at a danish, and, every so often, sipping his tea, and the conversation between them was easy; pleasant and unhindered.</p><p>“—left his samples laying out <em> again, </em> ” Hermann finished. He’d been regaling Julian with his workday; Newton had spent most of it more argumentative than usual, but any time Hermann had tried to engage with him, he’d just shut down. And <em> then </em>, to top it all off, he’d left his samples laying out, and they’d created a foul smell.</p><p>Julian hummed at him. “You try talking to him about it?” he asked.</p><p>A huff escaped Hermann. “You don’t know him like I do,” he said, half-fondly, half-exasperated, “you say something to that man and it goes in one ear and out the other. He may be a genius, I’ll grant him that, but, God...” he trailed off.</p><p>There was a moment of silence; and then Julian set his fork down. “Hermann,” he said, “I think it would be good if we stopped seeing each other.”</p><p>Hermann jolted slightly. “Pardon?” he asked, wide-eyed, “is it—did I <em> do </em> something?”</p><p>“No, no,” Julian shook his head, and met Hermann’s gaze, a wry smile curling at his lips. “It’s not anyone’s fault, really—I should have realised it earlier, honestly, and cut it off then.”</p><p>“What—?”</p><p>“Hermann,” Julian said, gently, “you’re in love with Newt. I thought it was just a—a crush, or something, when you told me about it that night, and that maybe I could do something to help you get over it, but...you’ve spent at least half of our conversations talking about Newt, and I think we both know that your complaints about him aren’t nearly as genuine as you try and pretend they are.</p><p>“He’s...he’s your Drift partner, Hermann, I don’t blame you. I just feel bad for not realising it earlier.”</p><p>Hermann tried to breathe; he suddenly felt nauseous, and his chest was tight. “I—what—?” he croaked, and then stopped, unable to continue.</p><p>“I like you, Hermann,” Julian said, and reached out to pat Hermann’s hand; softly. “But it’s not fair to either of us. I...” he paused. “I had fun, but it’s time to end it.”</p><p>“...oh,” Hermann croaked; and, mechanically, took another bite of his danish. The rest of their time passed silently; Hermann felt numb, and his mind was fogged; his movements slowed. Once he was done with his scone and his drink, Julian rose, leaving Hermann alone at the table, and walked out the door.</p><p>Hermann spent a few minutes staring blankly out the window before he tossed what remained of his danish into the rubbish-bin and shoved the door open, raising his head and gritting his jaw, and walked back towards the Shatterdome.</p><p>By the time he got back, the sun had dipped below the horizon; his steps had been slower than usual, and he felt stiff. His mind kept replaying Julian’s words—if he knew, then what if he told Newton? After all, the two of them were friendly enough that Newton had been <em> flirting </em> with him, for God’s sake.</p><p>The thought made Hermann’s breath quicken until he was nearly hyperventilating; he could just imagine it—Newton’s face, surprised, at first, and then horrified and disgusted, or, if he was lucky, <em> pitying </em>. And then—and then he’d request a transfer, or, if a miracle occured, he’d merely become cold and unfriendly towards Hermann.</p><p>It was mortifying—when had Hermann begun to <em> care </em> so much about him? They had Drifted, yes, but that wasn’t it—somehow, at some point, Newton had wormed his way into Hermann’s heart, and now it was full of holes, and he didn’t even know it—but he <em> would </em>, probably, soon.</p><p>For the first time since Julian had uttered the first words of his damning sentence, Hermann felt a dam break within him; emotion rising like an unstoppable wave, and he knew, instinctively, that it would hit him with the weight of a kaiju—soon.</p><p>He blinked rapidly, and swallowed back a dry sob; quickened his pace and prayed that he could get to his quarters in time. </p><p>“Hey, can you—Hermann? You okay?”</p><p><em> Newton </em> . Hermann stiffened. God—of all people to run into! “ <em> Fine </em>,” he managed to hiss, and shoved past Newton; gripping the head of his cane tight. Only ten more meters, only ten more—</p><p>The door was before him, finally, and he shoved a shaking hand into his pocket; tried to find his keys. </p><p>There was a soft touch on his shoulder, and he flinched; turned, wide and wild-eyed, to find Newton looking at him with concern. “Hermann?” he said, softly, “did—did something happen? Are—no,” he shook his head, quickly. “No, that’s stupid, <em> obviously </em> you’re not okay. God, I—” he stopped, seeming to flounder for a moment; expressions flicking fast across his face, too fast for Hermann to read.</p><p>“Let’s get you into your room,” he said, finally, and then: “Here, I’ll get it—” and reached into Hermann’s jacket pocket, brushing his hand, which was still there, before he pulled out the keys and stuck them in the door, unlocking it with ease.</p><p>For a moment, he hovered there, unmoving, before Hermann let out a dry rasp of a breath, and then he pressed a hand to Hermann’s shoulder and herded him inside.</p>
<hr/><p>The moment that Newt had seen Hermann’s twisted and broken expression, all thoughts of heading back to the lab for his notes left his mind. Something was wrong with Hermann and that took priority over everything else. He ignored the evasions and invited himself in, taking the keys from Hermann’s pocket and pretending like he couldn't feel him shaking.</p><p>Once they were in Hermann’s room Newt herded him over to the bed and knelt in front of him. He didn’t know what had happened but whatever it was Newt was sure they could handle it together, as soon as he knew what it was. “What happened?”</p><p>“It’s foolish. You...” Hermann started before cutting himself off. He blinked a few times and Newt’s heart hurt. Whatever had happened Newt was going to make it better, or at the very least he would make whoever had caused it to pay.</p><p>“I don’t care. Whatever it is, we both know I’ve done something dumber,” Newt said, smiling and squeezing Hermann’s knee. </p><p>“Julian told me while we were getting coffee that he wants to stop seeing each other, romantically,” Hermann explained, sniffling a little, closing his eyes tight. </p><p>Emotion swelled in Newt’s chest. Fury that Julian had had the nerve to hurt Hermann, but also happiness that made a shot of guilt run through him. He couldn’t help but be pleased that Julian had broken it off even though it had done such a number on Hermann. At the very least he knew how to make Hermann feel better, Newt was an expert at being on the receiving end of breakups. “I take it back. I’ve never done anything that stupid before. What an idiot to let you go,” Newt said, his thumb stroking Hermann’s knee. </p><p>Hermann gave him a shaky smile that broke Newt’s heart into a million pieces. </p><p>“Come on, let’s get you comfy,” Newt said, patting Hermann’s knee and then starting to untie Hermann’s shoes. He was down there anyway might as well be useful. Once the shoes were gone he looked back up at Hermann. “Do you want to change or just watch a movie like this?”</p><p>“This is fine.” Hermann grabbed his laptop that was on his bedside table and opened it. “Do you mind watching a documentary instead?”</p><p>Newt settled onto the bed with his back to the wall. “Whatever you want, dude. Tonight is all about you and reminding you that you’re better than that stupid fuck. You deserve the world and I’ll give it to you if it kills me.”</p><p>Hermann didn’t smile at him and Newt didn’t blame him. Maybe he was laying it on a little thick for the first night of the breakup. Asking Hermann to close the relationship was something that he should wait at least a week for. He didn’t want to appear too pleased with the development. Especially since Newt never actually got the nerve up to ask about their relationship, and had been suffering under Tendo’s disappointed gaze and his father’s hums of disapproval more and more with every day he put it off. </p><p>Newt kicked off his boots and once Hermann had set the laptop up with the documentary he pulled Hermann back towards him so that Hermann’s back was to his chest. “This okay?” he asked with a whisper directly into Hermann’s ear. Hermann nodded and Newt tightened his arms around him for a second before relaxing. </p><p>Hermann was still holding his hand and after a second he fully relaxed into Newt so that Newt’s head was just over his shoulder and Newt was having to hold himself back from kissing his neck. Now wasn’t the time. </p><p>Things had been...weird ever since Hermann had started seeing Julian and Newt had been pretending not to notice for the sake of both their sanities. There were different rules for Julian than there were for Newt and he'd never figured out what the different rules meant, still too much of a coward to just <em> ask </em>. Julian had been allowed in Hermann’s room; Newt had even run into him once leaving Hermann’s room in the morning when Newt had been making it an early day in the lab. Newt was rarely allowed in, and they’d certainly never slept together there.</p><p>It had made for a very awkward conversation since they had been walking in the same direction. It consisted mostly of Newt saying good morning and then saying “So uh, Hermann, pretty cool right?” and to get an off-kilter look in return.</p><p>The problem had been, and remained to be, that Julian had made Hermann happy in ways that Newt apparently couldn’t and Newt didn’t know what those ways were. Which meant he couldn't solve the problem. He wanted to ask, sometimes the words were on the tip of his tongue and then Hermann would catch him staring and ask “what?” and Newt wouldn’t be able to resist saying something stupid like “just looking at you. Is that a crime?” which only made Hermann scoff and turn away. </p><p>Everything he did felt loaded and heavy. He was lucky to have Hermann, he knew that, he <em> felt </em>that but it didn’t stop the confusion or the hurt. It also only made the relief that was quickly settling into his bones more palpable.  </p><p>To say that Newt had been worried about the development with Julian would have been an understatement. Newt had been petrified for the first few days after their first date, until he had reassured himself that Hermann wasn’t Alan. Hermann wasn’t the type to decide he liked dating the new guy more than Newt, break up with Newt, and get married into a closed relationship with the new guy. Or at least he didn’t <em> think </em>Hermann was that type. </p><p>Newt didn’t kiss his neck but he did place a soft kiss to his shoulder. “Hey, we’re okay, right?” Newt whispered, proud of himself that he had finally asked something. Starting small was okay, asking Hermann if they were still steady, still together, still <em> good </em> seemed like a decent enough place to start. </p><p>“Yes, of course. Thank you for being here with me right now, I’m sure there’s other places you’d rather be,” Hermann said, squeezing Newt’s hand tightly before relaxing again. </p><p>“I’d rather be here than let you go through this alone,” Newt said, kissing his shoulder one more time. For a moment he allowed himself to feel the relief and the joy at having Hermann to himself again. If it made him selfish, well, what else was new? </p>
<hr/><p>In the months that had passed since the breakup with Julian, Hermann had, thankfully, managed to keep himself more or less put together save for the initial night of—mostly thanks to Newton, who had, seemingly, decided that he cared about Hermann as a friend after all.</p><p>Hermann appreciated his efforts—when the man made them, they were sincere and, if a bit off the mark at times, almost always without fail managed to make him feel better. The tactility, too, had increased—though whether that was <em> good </em> or <em> bad </em>, Hermann wasn’t sure; on the one hand, he appreciated it, truly, knowing someone was there for him, but on the other, he felt horrible—as if, somehow, by taking comfort in this, he was taking advantage of Newton.</p><p>That night, Newton had proposed that they “hang out” in his room—a phrase which Hermann <em> did </em>, actually, know the meaning behind, though it made him wrinkle his nose. “Really?” he asked.</p><p>Newton shrugged; spread his hands in an opening motion. “Hey,” he said, apparently misinterpreting the phrase, “look, man, I can’t blow money on you by going out <em> every </em> time.” The words made Hermann raise a brow, but he didn’t correct him.</p><p>“Alright,” Hermann said; after they’d lapsed into silence for a few moments; his pen skittering over the paper for a final line before he set it down. “Er—”</p><p>“Dress casual,” Newton cut in. “Um—I mean, it’s just a, a movie,” he laughed; the sound edged by something sheepish, almost, and then added: “if you want, you can grab, like, a sweater and some sweatpants and change in my room so no one sees you.”</p><p>He fell silent, not looking at Hermann, and returned to where he’d been checking something on his phone, leaving Hermann in thought.</p><p>Hermann took a shallow, but steadying breath. “Alright,” he said, finally. “Time?”</p><p>At that, the other’s face lit up, and he turned to direct a grin towards Hermann. “Nine,” he replied.</p><p>He hummed. “Should I bring anything?”</p><p>“Nothing but your sweet self, Herms,” Newton said, with a wink. Hermann scoffed, refusing to allow his heart to do its usual painful contractions at the sight. Instead, he just nodded.</p><p>Nine finally rolled around what seemed like an eternity later; Hermann, who had spent the last half hour trying and <em> failing </em> to read the book he’d downloaded, practically sprung to his feet, and then, remembering himself, made an effort to look more collected.</p><p>He picked up the clothing he’d selected—the most casual sweater and pair of trousers he owned, chosen after almost an hour of agonising over it—, and made his way out the door, clutching the clothes to his chest with one hand, the other rubbing the head of his cane in an effort to soothe himself.</p><p>Finally, he stood in front of Newton’s room; shifted the clothing beneath his arm so he could knock, awkwardly, on the door; waiting, breath bated, for—what?</p><p>And then the door opened, and Newton’s beaming expression greeted him; “Herms!” he said, “come in!” and, for a moment, the tightness in Hermann’s chest eased at the sight before it returned with full force, reminding him this was not for him; could never <em> be </em>for him.</p><p>It took him another second to realise the other thing; that Newton is not wearing shoes of any sort.</p><p>Logically, Hermann had known they were four inches apart—but Newton always wore boots with high soles; being below average height had always been something he was rather sensitive about, Hermann knew, had <em> known, </em> not because of the Drift, but because Newton had confessed it, years ago, in their letters; that he only allowed himself to go barefoot when absolutely necessary, or around those he trusted implicitly, like his father and uncle, Illia.</p><p>The sight of it made Hermann’s breath catch; and, for a moment, he stood there, frozen by the display before he finally managed to shake himself out of his stupor, muttering something inconsequential to Newton and making his way to the bathroom to change.</p><p>When he returned, Newton was on the sofa, laptop on his lap, legs sprawled out over the other arm; mismatched socks on full display. When he spotted Hermann, he stood, setting the computer down; and Hermann, yet again, was struck by the height difference. He looked—well, he looked <em> cute </em>, for lack of a better word; and Hermann suddenly wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and hold Newton close to him; to press a kiss to his forehead in a movement that would surely require him to bend down, slightly, or even more if he—</p><p>He shook himself of the thought; trying to focus on Newton’s words. “—thought you’d be a matching pyjama-set guy,” Newton was teasing; and he reached out to tug lightly at Hermann’s pullover. “‘S cute, though—makes you look your age,” he added.</p><p>Hermann scoffed. “I always look my age,” he countered, and sat down. “What are we watching tonight—one of your ridiculous kaiju-flicks?”</p><p>Newton hummed and settled down by his side, opening the laptop again. “Nah,” he said, “something lowkey.”</p><p><em> Lowkey </em> , apparently, meant <em> boring </em> ; Hermann wasn’t sure the movie even <em> had </em> a coherent plot, but if it did, he’d long lost it by the twenty-minute mark, and they had both turned, instead, to eating the pretzels Newton had grabbed, and half-whispering to each other just barely under the volume of the film.</p><p>At some point, they’d migrated to where they were practically laying on each other; and, in a moment of silence on screen, Newton glanced up at him through half-lidded eyes, his glasses already halfway down his nose, and his hair ruffled.</p><p>It was a <em> sign </em> ; though not the sort Hermann desperately wished it was. No—it was a sign that Newton wanted him to play along; that he’d merely offered this as an incentive, this time between them. It’d been happening more and more lately, these nights, and they always ended with him, heart aching, letting Newton fill the loneliness that he so obviously carried in him with a quick spat with Hermann—or; <em> at </em> Hermann, perhaps; <em> with </em> Hermann.</p><p>Either way, when Newton began to kiss him, it wasn’t <em> unexpected </em> ; and that, perhaps, made it hurt all the more; to know that Newton’s lips on his, his hands gently resting on Hermann’s leg and the back of his neck, were not there because it was <em> Hermann </em> , but rather because he needed purchase—and, God, that was what this was all about, wasn’t it? Purchase—Newton felt <em> stable </em> with Hermann; and so, he knew that doing— <em> this </em> with him wouldn’t lead to some horrible end. It wasn’t <em> stability </em> , really, of course, far from it, and Newton would never want that with him, he knew that, but—still, every time, he let Newton do so; let him kiss him, soft and sweet, or sloppy and aggressive, or, or, or; in an endless litany, and all the while, Hermann would feel nearly euphoric before the reality of it came crashing down on him; and, an instant later, he remembered how selfish of him it was to <em> want </em> something more.</p><p>This time it didn’t lead to anything more; and Hermann wasn’t sure if he ought to be disappointed—that he didn’t get to play at intimacy for a few hours more—or relieved—that he wouldn’t have to wake up feeling like he’d done some unspeakable deed and taken advantage of a man who had no idea of his feelings and never would and would never, more importantly, <em> return </em> them.</p><p>Instead, Newton seemed more than happy to nuzzle against Hermann’s neck; no longer even pretending to follow the film, and wrap his arm loosely around him. “Glad you came,” he murmured, quietly, and the breath of it echoed, like a ghost, against Hermann’s skin.</p><p>Hermann didn’t reply to that; merely queued up the next movie, guiltily allowing himself this small comfort for just a bit longer.</p><p>Finally, though, the second movie ended as well, and Hermann had to take his leave. “I ought to go,” he murmured, “we have work tomorrow.”</p><p>“Mm,” Newton said, not opening his eyes, “‘k,” and then he made a sound of protest as Hermann, as gently as he could, extricated himself to go change in the bathroom.</p><p>When he came out, Newton was looking a bit more awake; and he glanced at the night-clothes Hermann had worn. “Y’can leave ‘em here,” he offered, quietly, “I’ll wash ‘em and keep ‘em here s’you don’t have to bring ‘em over next time.”</p><p>Hermann froze. “No,” he croaked, finally, mind racing; the <em> implications </em> of leaving his clothing—! God! Newton must have gone <em> mad! </em> “That’s—that’s <em> fine, </em> thank you, Newton.”</p><p>Newton must have said something else; but Hermann, hastening towards the door, only caught the impression of his voice rather than his words; and within minutes, he was back in the cold safety of his own quarters, tossing the clothes haphazardly into his laundry hamper. He couldn’t bear to look at them—not now, not with Newton’s words circulating in his head still.</p><p>God—Hermann <em> understood </em> ; he really did; the loneliness was awful, and who else was more readily available and trustworthy than one’s Drift partner? But still, it <em> stung </em> ; that Newton would want a casual, undefined and un-acknowledged thing between them, and yet still say things like <em> that </em> without thinking.</p><p>He lay down on the bed; mind running a thousand miles a minute, and stared at the ceiling in miserable silence until he finally passed out.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt had a problem. Not a big, earth ending one, he’d taken care of that months ago. No, his problem was that his six month-iversary with Hermann was coming up and the present he wanted to give him was on the opposite side of the globe, being guarded by his father who had taken up a stance against giving anything to Newt that Newt might give to Hermann.</p><p>“Dad, it’s my stuff,” Newt argued as he flopped back on his bed.</p><p>“And it's my money paying to send it to you, and I don’t like that Hermann,” his dad argued, sounding more stern than he had any right to be at 7 am on a Saturday.  It was 7 pm for Newt but, still his dad shouldn't have been awake enough to break out the scolding tone. </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Why not? I’ll tell you why not,” he said and Newt could imagine the twist in his face as actual anger set in. </p><p>“Okay, maybe not. But come on, I love him, isn't that good enough for you?”</p><p>“Not anymore. He’s not treating you right.”</p><p>“You don’t know the whole story, all you have is what I’m telling you!”</p><p>“I. Don’t. Care.” Jacob took a deep breath. “Listen, Newt. I know you have some self esteem issues. I know—”</p><p>“Dad, this isn’t about—”</p><p>“I’m not done. I get, I understand, but you need to trust me when I’m telling you that what he’s doing is unacceptable.”</p><p>“He—”</p><p>“He started dating someone else without talking to you at all, that’s not okay in my book. Not okay in most books,” Jacob said. “I know you love him but please listen to me, you deserve better than him. You deserve someone who loves you as much as you love them.”</p><p>Newt closed his eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to spill. “Will you please just send me the scrapbook?”</p><p>Jacob was quiet on the other end for a long time. The tinny sound of the phone ringing in Newt’s ear. “Fine. I’ll send it. But promise me you’ll think about what I said.”</p><p>“Fine, whatever. I promise to think about,” Newt said, shaking his head. He would probably never get the words out of his head. </p><p>“I love you, Newty.”</p><p>“Yeah. Okay. I gotta go.”</p><p>A week and a half later a box from Boston arrived. It had some saltwater taffy, some cookies from uncle illia, and a black leather scrapbook.</p><p>He’d tried a lot of different crafts in his youth, but when he’d started writing to Hermann flower pressing became the one he cared about most. He’d find ones that reminded him of something Hermann had said during one of his many nature walks or camping trips and he’d pluck it, pack it away, and press it. Then he’d pack it away in his scrapbook which he had brought with him to their first meeting but hadn’t actually handed it over to Hermann once things had started to head south. </p><p>He still kept it though, or forced his dad to keep it in the attic with a lot of his other things when he moved to the Shatterdomes. It had more than pressed flowers, it had a drawing of what he thought the breach might look like based off of Hermann’s predictions, it had pictures of pretty things he saw around town that he thought Hermann would enjoy, and a couple of torn out pages of poetry he thought he’d like. It was a dumb idea and he’d been relieved when he got back to the hotel and realized he hadn’t given it to Hermann. How embarrassing. But it had some uses.</p><p>He couldn’t stand to give Hermann the whole thing, dating or not it was embarrassing, so he hunted through the whole Statterdome until, after breaking into an office that seemed mostly unused, he found a small empty square tin that looked like it had held christmas cookies at one point. </p><p>Back in his room he painted over the cartoon holly, let it dry and then carefully laid best the pressed flowers inside. By the time he had finished his little project he only had to wait a few days until it was exactly six months after Newt had sat watching the Bachelor and asked Hermann out. </p><p>As he placed the lid over the box he smiled to himself.  Hermann would obviously remember that it was their six month anniversary, the only question was whether he was a strict “anniversary” means one year or if he would surprise Newt with his own gift. And if he didn’t would he scramble in the cute way he did when he hadn’t realized that whatever it was Newt was asking for was important. </p><p>He left his room and started towards the hall, catching sight of Hermann just a few steps in front of him leaving his own room.</p>
<hr/><p>“Hermann!”</p><p>Newton’s voice made him pause. There was an edge of something to it—excitement, perhaps, and it intrigued Hermann. It could just be another rambling tangent about the kaiju—a common occurrence, even now, post-war; Newton was a xenobiologist at heart, first and foremost, after all—, but something about it made Hermann suspect it wasn’t.</p><p>He slowed his pace enough to allow Newton to catch up to him. “Yes?” he asked, keeping his tone even.</p><p>Newton grinned at him. “I got something for you,” he announced, and Hermann glanced to see that he was holding a small, flat box in his hands. He raised a brow; reached for it. Newton batted his hand away. “Not yet,” he admonished.</p><p>“...why <em> not? </em>” Hermann asked, but Newton didn’t give an answer; just smiled serenely.</p><p>When they got to the lab, Newton joined him at his desk rather than going over to his own side, and set the box down in front of Hermann. “Go ahead,” he said, and Hermann glanced between him and it.</p><p>“It’d better not be kaiju bone-dust,” he muttered, and Newton laughed, high and short.</p><p>“It’s not, I swear,” he said. “Just open it.”</p><p>Hermann, more than a little apprehensively, did; hooking his fingers under the top piece to pull it off—it was a tight fit, so it took a bit, but eventually he managed it, revealing the contents. Pressed, dried flowers.</p><p>He frowned. “<em> This </em>is what you were so insistent on giving me?” he asked, with a raised brow, and there was a noise of protest.</p><p>“It’s from when we were writing to each other!” Newton said, giving him a look. “I collected and pressed them myself—meant to send them to you, but, uh,” he laughed sheepishly, “that never happened. So I figured I’d give them to you know, because, uh,” he trailed off with a shrug; seeming to find that enough of an explanation.</p><p>Hermann took one of them out; held it up to the light. It was a petal—faded green, carnation, maybe; but he couldn’t be sure; he wasn’t a florist, and had never had much interest in flowers or plants in general. “Er, thank you, Newton,” he said, a bit awkwardly, after a minute.</p><p>There was a silence; and when he looked at Newton again, there was a look of expectation on his face—though for <em> what </em>, Hermann wasn’t sure. After a few beats, it disappeared, and he said, flatly, “I’ll go work on that—thing, then.”</p><p>With that, he stepped back over to his own side of the lab.</p><p>Hermann shot him a mystified look. What on Earth had bothered him so much? Had Hermann forgotten something? The six-month anniversary of the end of the War, perhaps, but—no; the War had ended in <em> January </em>, not February; February had been that godawful gala.</p><p>The memory of it had Hermann dazed for a few moments as he recalled dancing with Newton, his hand on Hermann’s waist, and how, later, for a second he had thought—but no. He shook his head. There was no point dwelling on whatever that had been.</p><p>He set the petal back into the box and put the lid back on, pulling open the desk drawer, and placed it in there, along with a few other items—sets of extra pens and sticky-note pads and such. If he lingered on it for a moment more than perhaps was necessary—well; that was between him and the drawer.</p><p>Newton spent the day being, in turns, quieter and louder than usual; he seemed to take any opportunity to get out of talking with Hermann, and Hermann had no idea why. As such, when the end of the day finally came and Newton left without a word, leaving his speakers blaring music, Hermann didn’t chase after him as he normally would have to yell at him to turn it off.</p><p>Instead, he merely crossed over the divide—someone, the Shatterdome cleaning staff, probably, had pulled the hazmat tape off of the ground a while ago, but there remained, still, a distinct line where it had been—and turned the sound off; and then, after a beat, unplugged it and wound the cord up. </p><p>There wasn’t anything to tie it up with, so he had to awkwardly place it on the counter next to it, but it wasn’t <em> too </em> bad.</p><p>When he went back to his desk to grab some papers to take back to his quarters, he had the sudden urge to take the box of dried flowers as well. He licked his lips; shot a nervous glance around the room, and then opened the door and took the box out, placing it on top of his papers.</p><p>When he returned to his quarters, he put the papers away, and placed the box gently on top of his dresser. </p><p>Something about the thought of the flowers there comforted him—the memory of Newton so close to him, perhaps; of a time when there had been no awkward and painful history between them; when they had been young and eager, and, perhaps, in Hermann’s case, horribly infatuated.</p><p>He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh; wished, for a moment, that things could have gone differently—wished that he hadn’t jumped straight to assuming Newton had been mocking him when they had first met. He knew it <em> now </em>, of course, saw that it had just been the same teasing that had been in Newton’s letters, but at the time, he had reacted with hurt; had thrown up his walls and attacked Newton viciously.</p><p>If he hadn’t, who knew what could have happened—perhaps they would have remained friends; perhaps they could have been something...<em> more </em> , if Hermann had ever gotten up the courage to actually <em> ask </em> rather than merely pine from afar.</p><p>That led straight back to thoughts of laying in Newton’s bed, of course, and suddenly, it hurt more; felt more painful. He shook himself out of it with a hiss. “Enough,” he scolded himself.</p><p>It was enough to sour the kind gift Newton had given him, however, so he rose and put the box at the back of one of his dresser drawers, where he wouldn’t see it constantly.</p><p>After he closed it, he swallowed thickly; closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and going about his nightly routine, pretending that it was merely another night—after all, for all intents and purposes, it <em> was </em>; nothing had changed.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt wasn’t sure what it was that he had done wrong, but that was beginning to be a familiar feeling. Hermann had all but dismissed him after he opened the box. He hadn’t even said, “ah, yes. Six months, quite the milestone.” Nothing. Then he’d stuffed the box in a drawer like it was nothing important, even after Newt explained what they were. Like it didn’t matter why Newt had them or was giving them away.</p><p>If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was despite his therapist's efforts, he was getting tired of it. This back and forth was exhausting and he never liked being confused. He wanted to understand everything and barring that he’d settle for at least understanding his own damn relationship.</p><p>Two days after their six-month-iversary Newt got a phone call from a blocked number. He was bored and waiting for the computer to come back to life after crashing so he answered, he could at least have a little fun with the scammers calling him. </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hello, is this Dr. Newton Geiszler?” a woman asked. </p><p>“It is,” Newt said, leaning back in his chair. </p><p>“This is Liwen Shao from Shao Industries,” she said and Newt sat up in his chair again.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“I’m calling to offer you a job, Dr. Geiszler,” she said, sounding firm and a little bored. </p><p>“Okay? Doing what? You’re a robotics and weapons company, you’ve got the wrong PPDC scientist for that,” Newt said, glancing at Hermann's side of the lab which had been empty all morning. He was supposed to have some meeting today, or he might have been avoiding Newt, who could know?</p><p>“I know exactly who I’m speaking to. I have a thousand programmers that may struggle to do what Dr. Gottlieb did but they are fully capable. I’m looking for the world’s leading kaiju biologist because when they come back, we will not be blindsided by them again. You know how to find weaknesses, my programmers can find ways to exploit those weaknesses. You’ll have your own lab with assistants for you to manage. Your own department within Shao, to do with what you want as long as you are getting us the information we need.” </p><p>Newt couldn't say he wasn’t tempted. “You sure know how to put together a deal. I’ll still need time to think it over.” </p><p>“Of course. I’ve emailed you our offer. Consider it carefully, we’re preparing our world for the future because we both know that they aren’t going to stop. You have until the end of the week.” She hung up on him and Newt was still for a while before he pulled himself closer to his computer, opened his email and started to read the letter. A huge salary bump, his own department, an office of his own, a lab that was dedicated only to his department, and a company-provided apartment.</p><p>Fuck it was tempting, just one thing was missing, but maybe that one thing didn’t want him to stay.</p><p>Newt brought it up over dinner. “I got a job offer today,” Newt said, watching Hermann carefully as he did. Hermann’s fork only stopped for a second before he continued eating. </p><p>“Really? That isn’t necessarily odd.”</p><p>“This one was. I’d get my own department and everything. Big raise too,” Newt said, trying to sound nonchalant. </p><p>Hermann hummed. “I see. Are you going to take it?”</p><p>Newt stared at him for a while, his breath caught in his throat. What the hell was Hermann playing at? They’d been dating for more than six months and were more than a little invested in each other given the fact that they had started the whole thing by drifting. Newt thought that if anything Hermann would at least want to talk about it. Apparently the man wanted to talk about everything unless it pertained to Newt. “I don’t know yet. Weighing my options. Thought I’d ask what you thought.”</p><p>Hermann’s face went completely blank as he looked up at Newt, though Newt was sure he wasn’t <em> seeing </em>him. “You should do whatever is the best for you.”</p><p>“Yeah...right.” As soon as Newt was finished with his dinner he got up, leaving Hermann behind to go sit in his room and think about all the bullshit in his life. Maybe starting fresh would be the best thing for him. Leaving Hermann behind would hurt but could it really hurt more than holding him after Julian had broken up with him, or watching him run out of the room at the suggestion that they could share their spaces? He honestly wasn’t sure anymore. </p><p>He opened his tablet and emailed Liwen. </p><p>
  <em> Hello, Dr. Shao,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you for the offer. Before I agree to anything I’d like to tour the Shao facilities and see the space I would be working in. Could we arrange that? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Thank you, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dr. Newton Geiszler Ph.D. </em>
</p><p>The next morning when Newt woke there was a reply to his email, asking him when he’d like the private jet to pick him up. </p><p>Monday morning Newt called in sick from the back of a cab on the way to a small airport where the private jet was waiting for him. A part of him knew it was dumb to take a private jet, that it was wasteful and stupid, the other part of him wanted to see just how badly they wanted him. Dr. Shao herself was waiting in the plane when he boarded. </p><p>“I didn’t expect to see you until we landed,” Newt said, wishing he had had a second cup of coffee before he had gotten in the cab. </p><p>“I saw no reason to wait to make the full proposal,” she said, motioning to the seat across the small table from her. </p><p>“I guess not,” he said with a smile as he sat, the flight attendant taking his bag and storing it...somewhere for him. </p><p>A few minutes later they were flying and Newt was being brought in on exactly what Shao was planning, or close too. She was very good at evading questions that she didn't want to answer. The coffee they were served was incredible and so were the snacks that Newt had no shame in trying even if she did give him a slightly disgusted look. </p><p>Then they landed and he got a full tour. The labs were incredible. All the tech was fully up to date, cutting edge things that made his hands shake from wanting to touch them. The highrise they took him to made his eyes go wide even though he was trying to remember that he wasn’t a sell-out, it was about the science. Though he was beginning to understand why being a sellout was so damn popular. But the science was also cool. They wanted him to predict what future kaiju would look like so that they could prepare for another wave of attacks, which Newt had already been anxious about for months. </p><p>When he got back onto the plane by himself he was more than tempted. It was an incredible opportunity to do work that he’d have to argue with the brass for months to be greenlit. He knew that things would change as soon as he said yes but it was still on the tip of his tongue. The only thing that held him back from accepting when he had still been in the Shao offices was the thought of Hermann’s face when Newt told him he was going, and the very idea of their last kiss. </p><p>The more he thought about it the more he knew that if he took the job it would be over. Hermann would probably never leave the PPDC, he was more dedicated to it than anyone should have been, and they just weren’t the type to go long-distance indefinitely. Things weren’t what they had been in the early 2010s. Newt was older, and Newt was tired. </p><p>It was nearly ten o’clock when he landed and eleven when he made it back to the ‘dome. He passed the lab on the way and saw that Hermann was still standing at his desk, reading something on a sheet of paper that was obviously making him angry. “What’s goin’ on, man?” Newt asked as he came into the room. </p><p>Hermann looked up at him with a sharp glare. “You weren’t sick today.”</p><p>“How would you know? Are you trying to tell me you actually cared enough to check on me?” Newt asked, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself. Maybe it was the job, maybe it was just them, but apparently they were doing this now. </p><p>“I did but you weren’t there and now you’re here looking as if you’ve just had a very taxing day so, yes, I managed to piece it together that you weren’t here,” Hermann said, throwing down the paper he had been holding. Newt recognized it as the offer letter he had printed the night before. He must have accidentally printed two. Oh, well. It was done now. “Are you going to admit you were at Shao today or should we stand in silence a while longer?” Hermann sneered. </p><p>“No, I was at Shao today getting a tour to see if I wanted to go. Do you have a problem with that?” Newt asked, crossing his arms. They hadn’t had many throw-down knockout fights but they had had their share and Newt could feel that this was one of them. </p><p>“Is there a reason you felt compelled to lie to me about it?”</p><p>“I didn’t lie to you, I lied to Herc, and I guarantee he wouldn’t give a shit even if he knew. So why do you give a shit?”</p><p>“I was worried about you!” </p><p>“Since when? Since when do you give a shit about me, Hermann? I can’t even figure out if you want me to move to another goddamn country or if you want me to stay because you won’t tell me!” Newt yelled, finally losing it and letting loose every feeling that had been building inside of him ever since Hermann had told him to do what was best for him. </p><p>“It’s an incredible opportunity and you’re going to throw it away because your lab partner doesn't want to be lonely? It’d be absurd!” </p><p>“Why can’t we be absurd? Why can’t we have nice things for once, Hermann? Why does it always have to be logical? If you want me to stay, ask me to and I will!” </p><p>Hermann’s lip had started to quiver and he bit down on it hard. “I can’t,” he barely ground out. He blinked and a tear rolled down his face that Newt couldn't help but step forward and wipe away.</p><p>“Why not?” Newt whispered.</p><p>“I’m not worth staying for, Newton. You can’t stay for me,” Hermann whispered back, leaning into Newt’s touch that lingered on his cheek. </p><p>“You’re my best friend, you’re my drift partner, I <em> love </em> you, Hermann. Say the word and I will be happy to stay,” Newt said, kissing Hermann’s cheek. “You just have to tell me what you want.”</p><p>Hermann’s tears started to flow freely and a wretched sob escaped from his chest. “I want you to stay with me.”</p><p>The words were barely out of his mouth before Newt was pulling him into a crushing hug. “Then it's decided.”</p>
<hr/><p>After Newton almost left for Shao, Hermann tried his best to be a better friend to Newton—after all, it had been that, in the end, that had driven him to feel like he should go; Hermann not showing that he cared for Newton, not showing that he was Newton’s <em> friend </em>.</p><p>God—he <em> was </em> ; he <em> was </em> , but he had failed in showing that; to the point where Newton had thought that he <em> wasn’t </em>.</p><p>Step one in that process was actually spending <em> time </em> with the man outside of work; and with that, the nights spent watching movies in Newton’s room increased until they were commonplace, to the point where Hermann eventually forgot to take his casual clothing back to his quarters with him, and then they wound up residing in Newton’s drawers along with his clothes.</p><p>Tonight was another such night; Newton was picking the movie, as usual, but Hermann had offered to bring food, as it’s early still; and so in light of that, he takes the extra time to go downtown and buy takeout dumplings from Newton’s favourite place.</p><p>Seeing Newton’s face light up when he saw Hermann offer the bag up to him after he herds him inside is wonderful, and he says, “Hermann, dude, you’re the <em> best </em> ,” and Hermann barely manages to quell the aching cry that wants to rise in him at Newton’s happiness—and Newton’s happiness is <em> good </em> , he deserves it—though <em> deserve </em>isn’t the right word, perhaps—, even if he had to settle with Hermann for company.</p><p>Especially then, maybe.</p><p>With practiced ease, Newton took the bag from him and set it on the little table by his bed, and then rooted through his drawers to pull out Hermann’s sleepwear. “Here,” he said, and Hermann murmured a quiet <em> thank you </em> and hastened to the restroom to put them on.</p><p>The pullover smelt of Newton—sharp and a little bit like cedar, and, at its base, like <em> comfort </em> , and he allowed himself to close his eyes and breathe it in for a moment; and then pulled himself from it sternly and reminded himself that this is not for <em> him </em> to take comfort in.</p><p>When he reemerged, Newton had managed to balance the food and the laptop both on his lap where he laid on the bed, and he gave Hermann a grin. “Come lay down,” he said, “I promise I didn’t steal any of your noodles.”</p><p>Hermann scowled at him; liar; the box had been hastily closed and there were crease-marks; still, he did; settled in by Newton’s side. “Why not sit on the sofa?” he asked, “it’s got more room.”</p><p>“‘S cosier here,” Newton said. “Now be quiet, we’re watching Iron Man.”</p><p>That wasn’t much of an explanation; but Hermann didn’t pursue it; focused, more, on the food, which really was rather good. He had no idea what on Earth the movie was about, and Newton was trying to explain it to him.</p><p>“—not actually <em> iron </em> ,” Newton was saying, for what Hermann was sure wasn’t the first time that night, or even in the last half <em> hour </em> . His voice, made scratchy by the speed at which he spoke, drowned out much of the dialogue, and, as such, really made it <em> harder </em> to understand what was going on, but Hermann wasn’t about to say anything; listening to him speak about things he was passionate about had always been something Hermann love— <em> enjoyed </em>.</p><p>In the low light, the glow of the screen casting his face in pale blue, then yellow, then red in turns, Newton had an aura of vulnerability to him—so often, he seemed off in his own world, untouchable, but now, in this moment, he was close enough to touch, both metaphorically and physically; though Hermann’s mind skittered away in alarm at the thought of doing either.</p><p>Unfortunately, he had been so focused on Newton’s <em> face </em> that he hadn’t seen his gesticulations grow wilder, and as such, wasn’t expecting it when the biologist’s arm, in a downward sweeping motion, knocked the box of takeout from his grip, spilling it all over his pullover.</p><p>Hermann let out a startled yelp. “Newton—!”</p><p>“—he’s not just gonna—oh <em> shit </em>, Hermann,” Newton said; words cutting into each other and then trailing off. “Oh, god, I am so, so sorry—”</p><p>He scrambled; practically tossing the laptop to the side, and then, more carefully, thank <em> God </em>, set his own box of food on the ground and began to help Hermann clean it up.</p><p>Thankfully, not much had gotten onto the bed, but that was only because almost all of it had gotten onto <em> him </em>. “I’m so sorry,” Newton said, again, and dug through his drawers. “Here, this should fit you.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Hermann said, stiffly, and took the hooded sweater and sweatpants, making his way into the bathroom.</p><p>Thankfully, the clothes did fit alright, though the hooded sweatshirt was significantly on the larger side; the arms long enough that they almost reached the ends of his fingers, and the hood almost acted like a scarf with how much material it had.</p><p>Hermann huffed—he’d known Newton was fond of buying larger sweaters and such, but he hadn’t realised how much larger they’d be on himself, with how, as Newton put it, “rail-thin” he was.</p><p>When he stepped back out, Newton was in the process of taking the sheets off the bed; when he heard the door open, he set them down and craned his head to look at Hermann. For a brief second, Hermann almost thought he saw pink rise on his cheeks and his ears, but it was gone within the next moment, so it must have been his imagination.</p><p>“You should wear stuff like that more,” Newton said, smiling crookedly at him, “makes you look cute.”</p><p>Hermann stiffened. “Er—I—yes, well—” he stammered, feeling horrifically flustered; Newton wasn’t interested in him more than just as a friend and occasional partner when the loneliness got too much—didn’t he <em> understand </em> what saying things like this implied? To wear Newton’s clothing—God!</p><p>Thankfully, Newton <em> did </em> seem to realise; and his face shuttered for a second before he said, “Oh.”</p><p><em> Thank </em>God, Hermann thought; and pursed his lips, on habit. Hopefully, Newton wouldn’t say it again—he wasn’t sure if he could take it if he did, and he didn’t want to fall into an embarrassing mess of tears and let spill his emotions in front of Newton. No—better to just let him think Hermann was uninterested than know the truth: that Hermann was hopelessly, unremittingly interested in nearly every facet of Newton Geiszler, PhD.</p><p>He cleared his throat. “Shall we watch the rest of the film?” he asked, almost proud of how level his voice remained, and after a second, Newton nodded, and they settled back down, this time on the sofa, to watch the rest of it.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt was coming to terms with the fact that his birthday was never going to be a priority again. Six days before the apocalypse was cancelled? Yeah it was like being a Christian kid with his birthday on the 23rd. It seemed like the only person who hadn’t completely forgotten about Newt as the first anniversary of saving the world approached was Hermann. Which, to be fair, would have been a problem. Newt could stand a lot of indignities but forgetting his birthday was not one of them. </p><p>Newt got up that morning and there was a still warm cup of coffee from an actual coffee shop that he liked. It was what Hermann called “a carmel monstrosity” but Newt saw that the name “Herman” was written on the side of the cup. </p><p>“Thanks, Herm.”</p><p>Hermann looked up from his work and shot him a smile. “Happy birthday, Newton.”</p><p>Newt crossed the lab in long strides just to steal a kiss from Hermann’s cheek. Hermann turned red like he always did and frowned at the computer. “Work, Newton. Just because it is your birthday does not mean you can slack off.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’.” Newt did go back to work and it was all in all a pretty okay day. They went to lunch together, Hermann didn’t complain about Newt’s music once, even when he played happy birthday three times just to see how far he could push Hermann. Newt was too annoyed by the song to keep pushing but there was always next year. </p><p>Hermann took a break in the middle of the afternoon that seemed to stretch on for ages but Newt understood when he came back with a bag of take out in one hand. In order to avoid a repeat of the Dumpling Incident they ate together on the lab couch with the sauces and different plates Hermann had brought laid out in front of them. </p><p>“I also got you this,” Hermann said, pulling one last thing out of the bag which had been wrapped in a piece of leftover newspaper from that day. Newt knew because Hermann had been reading that newspaper over lunch. It was a square about the size of Newt’s palm and when he took it it had some weight to it. </p><p>He wondered if it was the bracelet that he had been dropping hints to Hermann about for months. A thrill ran through him that maybe Hermann had been paying attention after all. God, they were almost a year into the relationship, he really needed to find some security in it.</p><p>He opened it already smiling and ready to try on the watch when he realized it wasn’t a jewelry box, it was a hunk of resin with dried flowers in it. Very familiar dried flowers. </p><p>“Are these some of the flowers I gave you?” He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, homemade gifts were cute but...he was disappointed. And there was an odd sting at the idea of something he cherished some much being virtually re-gifted to him. </p><p>Hermann’s smile grew a little and Newt felt himself reflect it on reflex. “Yes. They’re very beautiful and I wanted to share them with you. And now they can’t be hurt.”</p><p>It made sense. It was a total Hermann move to take something Newt had done and build on it, making the flowers permanent and protecting them was cute. It still didn’t feel right. Maybe his expectations had been too high...again. “Right, duh. Thank you, I love it.”</p><p>Hermann smiled at him and then patted his knee before standing. “Well, I’m sure you will be going out tonight so I will see you in the morning. Goodnight, Newton.” </p><p>Newt looked up at him. “You...don’t want to hang out? Even just watch a movie or…?”</p><p>“I’m tired, I’ll see you in the morning.” Hermann left Newt sitting on the couch with the mess of dinner around him with the same gut wrenching feeling as when his dad had forgotten him at the gas station once and took five minutes to figure out why the car was so quiet. </p><p>Speaking of his dad, his phone was ringing. Newt put an earbud in and answered it. </p><p>“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear NEWT, happy birthday to you,” he sang before Newt even had time to say hello.</p><p>“Thanks, Dad.”</p><p>“Woah, what happened?”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Newt started to pack up the food that was left into one container. </p><p>“Something happened. I know you, and that is not the sound of a happy birthday boy,” he said, his tone on the verge of angry.</p><p>“I’m thirty-six. I don’t think “birthday boy” really describes me anymore.” Newt sighed, placing the leftovers in the small fridge in their “break area”.</p><p>“When it’s your birthday it does. Now come on, spill. Did Hermann do something?”</p><p>“He didn’t do anything,” Newt snapped at him. </p><p>Jacob was quiet on the other end for a second. “How much of not anything did he do?”</p><p>“Thirty-six isn’t a big birthday it's not a big deal,” Newt said. </p><p>“Newton Geiszler, did he forget your birthday?”</p><p>“No! He made me a nice resin flower thing with the dried flowers I gave him for our six months and bought take out. It was nice enough,” Newt said, shrugging even though his dad couldn’t see him. </p><p>“Which it sounds like you’re cleaning up alone,” Jacob argued. </p><p>“I need to get headphones with a shittier microphone apparently,” Newt grumbled. “It’s not a big deal. It was a good birthday.”</p><p>“You took him out for a day out on the town and then drove him out of the city to go stargazing for his birthday,” Jacob argued. “It sounds like he put about a quarter of the amount of effort into planning yours. And you’re the one cleaning up! Is he in a meeting or something?”</p><p>“No, he was just tired so he went to bed.”</p><p>“It's seven o’clock where you are.”</p><p>“He has an old soul.”</p><p>Jacob sighed. “I love you. Happy birthday. We got your present in the mail a little late this year so it won’t be there for another two days, but I promise it’s worth the wait.” His tone was even and deliberate, suddenly calm after all his frustration. </p><p>“What are you planning?” </p><p>“Nothing. Goodnight, I love you.”</p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>Jacob hung up on him. </p><p>Well at least he didn’t have Hermann’s phone number. A second later the work phone on Hermann’s desk rang once and then stopped the way it did when a call had been forwarded from it to Hermann’s cell phone. For a moment he thought it might have been Jacob but reminded himself that the K-sci part of the PPDC website was awful to navigate, even if it did have their work lines posted it'd be almost impossible to find it. Probably.</p>
<hr/><p>Once he got back to his room, Hermann closed the door behind him carefully, then braced against the wall and took a deep breath. He should have stayed with Newton, he knew that, but he couldn’t bear to have it turn into something else like it so often did these days—couldn’t bear to be reminded that Newton was only kissing <em> him </em> because he was the closest at hand.</p><p>And the expression of hurt that had flashed across Newton’s face after opening the present—that hurt, too. He thought he’d gone with something safe, something that would commemorate their decade-plus friendship—he’d considered trying to track down the various action figures that had made up Newton’s collection before they had gotten destroyed during a kaiju attack, but that had seemed like crossing a line.</p><p>But...but Newton had said he loved it. So maybe it was just surprise, not hurt. </p><p>Hermann drew another deep breath; closed his eyes and tried not to think too hard about it.</p><p>His phone rang as he was changing, and startled him, almost sending him toppling over, and he let out a curse as he barely managed to steady himself; tugged his shirt on. By the time he got to it, his phone had gone silent, but just as he picked it up, it rang again.</p><p>Unknown number. Probably spam. He answered anyway. “Hello?”</p><p>The voice on the other end was tense; biting. “Is this Hermann Gottlieb?”</p><p>“Er, yes, this is he, why—?”</p><p>“Gottlieb,” the other cut him off, the word spat out like it left a vile taste in his mouth, “you stay the <em> fuck </em> away from Newt, got it? You’ve already hurt him enough—if I hear <em> one </em> more thing from him about you, I swear to god, an entire ocean won’t be enough to stop me.”</p><p>Hermann blinked. “Pardon me, what are you <em> on </em> about?” he managed, “and—and who are you, exactly?”</p><p>“His <em> dad </em>, dipshit,” the man said.</p><p>“<em> Jacob? </em>” Hermann asked, “sorry—I’m confused—‘stay away from him’? What ever for?”</p><p>“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Gottlieb,” Jacob growled, “he might have managed to convince me to let everything else slide, but this? This is the last straw. You have done <em> nothing </em> but treat him like you don’t give a <em> shit </em> about your relationship—first that Julian, and now this? On his <em> birthday? </em> ” He stopped; anger making him breathe quick and fast. “I can’t believe you. You should be <em> ashamed </em> —he <em> loves </em> you, hangs onto your every word like a fucking <em> puppy </em> and always have, and <em> this </em> is how you treat him—”</p><p>“Mister Geiszler, I think you’ve got something wrong, we’re not—” Hermann tried, but Jacob cut him off.</p><p>“So yeah—yeah. Stay the <em> fuck </em> away from Newt, you got that?”</p><p>“I—” Hermann began; reeling slightly, but the line clicked off.</p><p>For a moment, he just stood there in silence, staring at the wall, the phone pressed to his ear; thoughts racing as he tried to understand what had just happened. <em> Relationship </em> —Jacob had said relationship. What on <em> Earth </em> had he meant by that?</p><p>He needed to talk to Newton.</p><p><em> Now </em>.</p><p>He checked the lab first, but it was empty—no sign of the biologist, and the takeout had been cleaned up, and he suddenly felt horrifically guilty—he hadn’t even offered to help Newton clean it up. He swallowed thickly; gripped the head of his cane, and turned, making his way towards Newton’s room.</p><p>The door was cracked, but he still knocked; three times, hesitant. “Newton? May I...may I come in?”</p><p>A beat passed, and then the door was jerked open. “Hermann?” Newton asked, wide-eyed. His face was red, as if he had been crying, or had scrubbed at it to try and not. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I...” he paused. What <em> was </em> he doing here? He wasn’t quite sure he knew, himself. “Your father called me,” he said, instead.</p><p>Newton’s lips pursed. “I <em> told </em> him it was fine,” he sighed, “he’s just overreacting.”</p><p>“He told me to stay away from you,” Hermann said; neutrally, watching for Newton’s reaction. “He said...he said that I hadn’t been treating you right.” He frowned slightly at that. “Honestly, I have no idea what he was talking about—he said something about a relationship, which is <em> ridiculous </em>, we’re not—”</p><p>He stuttered to a halt.</p><p>Newton’s face was twisted up, and he was obviously trying not to cry. “So we’re breaking up, then,” he croaked. “I—god, Hermann, whatever I did, or—or didn’t do, I’m sorry—”</p><p>“<em> Breaking up? </em>” Hermann repeated. “Newton, what on Earth—we’re not—we’re not...together.”</p><p>The last word he barely managed to get out; and it stung the instant it was. Newton, however, just shook his head. “No, no, you’re right,” he said, “we’re not—I was expecting too much, I just thought...” he trailed off, and let out a soft, half-shuddering sob.</p><p>“Newton?” Hermann took a step forward; concerned. “Are you alright?”</p><p>Newton swallowed. “Not really,” he croaked. “I can’t believe we’re breaking up on my—on my <em> birthday </em> . It’s just, it’s just kind of <em> shitty. </em>” He laughed wetly.</p><p>“We’re <em> breaking up? </em>” Hermann said again. “Newton—” he stopped.</p><p>Newton blinked a few times at him. “Wait a minute,” he said, voice oddly steady, and he scrubbed at his face, “did you—you never thought we were dating in the first place? But I—after the gala...I asked you—”</p><p>“You asked if I <em> would </em> date you!” Hermann half-shouted. “I thought—I thought it was rhetorical! And then when we got back, you flirted with Julian, and any hope I had of it <em> not </em> having been rhetorical were dashed—”</p><p>“We’re <em> friends! </em>” Newton exclaimed, voice trembling, and he took a few steps back; sat down on his bed. “I do that with Tendo too!”</p><p>There was a beat of silence, and then Hermann said, quietly, “Newton, if you thought we were together, why...what about <em> Julian? </em> I—I went on <em> dates </em> with him—you never said anything!”</p><p>Newton shrugged. “I figured you deserved someone else who could do whatever it was I couldn’t do for you,” he said.</p><p>“Newton, God, that’s—” Hermann pressed his eyes shut; tight; and then opened them; took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice even. “I’m sorry, Newton,” he said, finally. “I’m sorry that I made you think—that—”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Newton said, “don’t apologise. It’s not your fault—I shouldn’t have assumed anything.” He laughed again, and it sounded choked. “For a genius, I’m really bad with this stuff. I’ve known you for ten years, Hermann, I should have realised.”</p><p>He was curled in on himself a bit; head bowed, and Hermann’s heart ached, suddenly.</p><p>“<em> Newton </em>,” Hermann said, “I—”</p><p>“Don’t apologise,” Newton cut in.</p><p>Hermann bit his lip. “Fine,” he said. “Can I at least—can I give you a hug?”</p><p>There was a tense moment of silence, and then Newton said, “Yes, I—yeah. Please.”</p><p>Hermann swallowed thickly and took a few steps; sat down by Newton’s side and pulled him into the tightest embrace he could manage. After a few moments, Newton began to cry in earnest; tears soaking into Hermann’s shirt, but he couldn’t care—not now, not when he’d hurt Newton so badly. He bit his cheek and rubbed circles on Newton’s back until his shuddering breaths evened out.</p><p>It took him a bit to realise Newton had fallen asleep, but when he did, he disentangled himself from Newton as gently as he could; laid him down on his bed and made sure he was in a comfortable position, then rose.</p><p>This conversation wasn’t over—it had barely been begun, he knew. Newton would probably try and avoid it when he woke up—wouldn’t want to force Hermann to talk about something he thought he didn’t want to, but that was where Newton was wrong. Hermann <em> did </em> want to talk about it—wanted to understand it in full, and try to apologise, try to atone for what he’d done.</p><p>He sat down at Newton’s desk and pulled a sheet of paper and a pencil out and began to make a list.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt woke feeling like shit. His nose was stuffy, his eyes hurt, and he had a raging headache. It took him a long moment to realize why. Hermann hadn’t known. Or Newt had made it up? It wasn’t like you could actually date someone without them knowing, because then you weren’t dating. That was just how dating worked. </p><p>Newt opened his eyes with a sigh as he tried to figure out exactly how he was supposed to bounce back from this. He couldn’t pretend that it was a joke, he remembered how he reacted and Hermann wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon either. As soon as he opened his eyes though he saw Hermann sitting in his desk chair twisted around with a piece of paper in his hand. </p><p>“You’re awake,” Hermann said, his voice empty. </p><p>“No shit,” Newt shot back, forcing himself to sit up and put on his glasses that were folded neatly on the corner of his bedside table next to his clock. It was just after midnight. “What are you still doing here?”</p><p>“You fell asleep while we were hugging and you didn’t say I had to leave.” When Newt didn’t make any response but to blink at him, Hermann started to fold up the paper in his hands. “Which, obviously, I should have. Not saying to leave is not an invitation to stay.”</p><p>Newt was too wary of whatever was on that sheet of paper to allow any actual expression to cross his face. “You can stay if you want. I don’t care. I need a shower and then I’m putting on my sweats. Maybe I’ll go back to sleep, maybe we’ll talk, at the moment I don't care.”</p><p>“Do you want me to leave?” </p><p>Newt sighed. He wanted to yell and scream and jump up and down, but he was tired and it wasn’t exactly Hermann’s fault they were in this situation. “I want you to do what you want. Whatever that is, I’ll deal with it; always have.”</p><p>Hermann nodded once. “Then I’d like to stay.”</p><p>Newt shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.” He threw the blankets off of him and started towards the bathroom, right before the door shut Hermann spoke. </p><p>“Newton?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Hermann took a deep breath. “One: I am so sorry for the pain I caused you—”</p><p>Newt opened his mouth to cut in but Hermann just raised his hand. </p><p>“Two: I want you to tell me the moment that you want something, whether it’s for me to leave and never contact you again, or to hug you, whatever you want I want to give it to you.”</p><p>Newt felt his eyes stinging and he looked away from Hermann. </p><p>“And three: I love you.”</p><p>“Don’t.” Newt turned back to him, struggling to keep his voice even. “What I want is you not to say that right now. Not—not today.”</p><p>Hermann nodded again and Newt went into the bathroom, leaning back against the door as soon as it was closed. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? </p><p>After a few minutes of breathing exercises he straightened back up, popped his back and started the shower. He took longer than necessary. He washed his hair even though he had washed it the morning before, used the in-shower lotion that made his tattoos seem as bright as the day he got them; he even did a face mask. </p><p>He was feeling almost better when he walked out of the shower, less like his head was full of cotton and more like a person. He stepped out with a towel around his waist to find that Hermann had changed into the sweats he kept there and was sitting on the couch, rereading that same paper. </p><p>“Staying a while then?” Newt asked, aiming for a joke. His voice cracked in the middle, tears threatening to choke him before he got the question out.</p><p>Hermann looked stricken. Face pale, bottom lip quivering, and not blinking as he stared at Newt. Then suddenly he was a flurry of motion, standing from the couch and walking to his neatly folded pile of clothes on the desk chair, where he always kept his clothes when he changed at Newt’s room. “It was far too presumptuous of me to change, wasn’t it? Oh, I'm rubbish at this and we’ve barely started.”</p><p>Newt almost smiled. “Chill.” Hermann stopped and then went back to the side of the couch in the spot that Newt had started thinking about as “Hermann’s Spot”, just another thing for him to start undoing. He changed into his softest sweats and favorite t-shirt which had more than a few holes. Whatever, he didn’t really need to impress Hermann anymore. There was no hope of anything between them anymore. Newt’s carelessness had cleared away that possibility. “What’s on the paper?”</p><p>Hermann handed it to him. It was a bullet pointed list, the first of which was “Tell him that you love him” which had been crossed out and written next to it was small, tight handwriting that said “of course he doesn’t want to hear that from YOU you DOLT” </p><p>Following that was a list of all the major milestones in their relationship. Their first kiss, their first date, Julian; with multiple sub-bullet points under it. Then their movie nights, and the anniversary, and their fight over Shao. </p><p>“What is this? A list of reasons I should have known we weren’t dating?” Newt said, pulling his arms into his hoodie so that Hermann couldn’t tell exactly how tightly he was hugging himself.</p><p>“No.” Hermann picked the list back up. “It’s a list of questions. I...I’m not good at any of this and freeform communication hasn’t exactly been working for us so I thought...”</p><p>“Okay, fine. Start. First question. Hit me.”</p><p>Hermann looked down and bit his lip. For a while the room was quiet, the silence loaded. “Our first kiss, that morning. Why...”</p><p>“Was it a lame peck on the lips when I thought that I was finally in a relationship with the guy I had been pining after for years?” Newt asked—hurting himself he could handle. If he asked the mean questions Hermann wouldn’t have to and then Newt wouldn't have to hear him say those things.</p><p>“No, why isn’t the right way to start the question. Did I provide you with what you wanted in return? Were you...satisfied with my shock and barely returning the kiss? Was that what you wanted?”</p><p>Newt started at him for a long time, the hug he was giving himself getting tighter until his nails were digging into his sides. “No. But I was taking what I could get. I didn’t want to push you. I was trying to respect your space. Good job I did on that.” </p><p>“Newton,” Hermann sighed. “You never pushed me into anything. I wanted everything that you were offering.”</p><p>“Obviously not.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that you were offering.”</p><p>“Then what did you think was going on?”</p><p>Hermann hesitated, blinking rapidly and no longer even looking in the direction of Newt. “I was...I thought I was convenient and that you were lonely and that we had drifted and what better way to fill the loneliness than with your drift partner?” Hermann shrugged. </p><p>“You thought all I wanted from you was sex?” </p><p>“And company sometimes, to see a movie or go to the aquarium,” Hermann said. His face was turning bright red and Newt couldn’t help but feel like they were both the dumbest people in the world. How had they <em> both </em> missed it?</p><p>“Well, I guess that explains why you forgot our anniversary,” Newt said with a laugh. </p><p>Hermann gasped quietly. “The flowers.”</p><p>“Yeah. Had my dad ship them over from Boston and you...hated them,” Newt said with another laugh. It was a hysterical and broken kind of laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. </p><p>“I didn’t hate them...I didn’t understand them. I still don’t think making a craft with them is a terrible sin. I meant it as building on what we had and making it permanent, even if I did misunderstand what it was we had,” Hermann said. </p><p>Newt burst out laughing. Of course that was what started this, Hermann’s gift and Newt’s disappointment and Jacob’s fury. For everything that had happened it seemed ridiculous that this was what brought the situation to light. It seemed too small, compared to Julian and Shao it was nothing. A misinterpretation of a heartfelt birthday gift. </p><p>“Newton?”</p><p>Newt kept laughing. He couldn’t stop, it was too much and even his mid-breakdown nap wasn’t enough to get him through this. It was insane, life was insane. </p><p>“Newt?”</p><p>“How is this our life? How is it that this is what we did to ourselves? To each other?” Newt kept laughing, ignoring the concerned look on Hermann’s face. “God, Hermann you thought I was using you for sex when I would have done anything for you. You tried to move on from a relationship that you didn’t know you had ever been in let alone were still in!” The laughs were starting to gain an edge. “I thought you wanted me to be your dirty little secret and that’s why you won’t hold hands with me!” Newt stopped laughing and looked at Hermann, feeling desperate for any sort of grounding, for some sense and some reasonability, some reassurance if he was lucky. He’d never been lucky.</p><p>“I don’t know. For what it’s worth I am sorry,” Hermann said, lips pursed. He looked like he was trying to stop from bursting into tears, and honestly, Newt didn’t blame him. </p><p>“Yeah, yeah me too.” Newt scratched at his face and looked away. “Listen man, uh, I’ve got the progress report presentation to make to the reconstruction board tomorrow morning so…” </p><p>Hermann folded up the paper and stuck it in his pocket as he stood. “Of course. I’ll let you get some rest.” </p><p>Hermann picked up his clothes and for the first time he didn’t rush to the bathroom to change. It felt weird that of all moments for Hermann to choose to be okay with people knowing that they spent time together as more than just coworkers he’d chosen that moment, when everything had fallen apart.</p><p>“Did you mean it?” he asked just as Hermann had opened the door. </p><p>He turned to stare at Newt. “Mean what?”</p><p>“When you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”</p><p>Hermann nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry, but yes.”</p><p>“Goodnight, Herm. I’ll see you at work.”</p><p>“Goodnight,” Hermann whispered as he snuck out the door, and then Newt was alone again. He stared at the door for a while, mentally kicking himself. He was back at question one of the night: what did he do now?</p>
<hr/><p>“Good morning,” Tendo said, as Hermann set his tray down next to his, and then, a moment later, sat down. </p><p>“Mister Choi,” Hermann greeted; and realised, after a moment, how flat and drained his voice sounded.</p><p>Tendo must have noticed it as well, because he frowned. “You okay, Gottlieb?” he asked, “you sound kinda...” he paused, glancing Hermann up and down. “Pull a long night or something?”</p><p>“Or something,” Hermann echoed.</p><p>For the remainder of breakfast, he picked at his food—he didn’t have much of an appetite, and even if he had, the events of the night before weighed heavily on his mind, and made it hard to concentrate on much else.</p><p>God—he had been such an idiot, hadn’t he? He should have just <em> asked </em> Newton, like a reasonable person, and it would all have been cleared up within the first day, or, hell, even <em> first few hours </em> , but no; he was a genius, he was <em> right </em>, he knew Newton’s emotions better than Newton did, or so he had thought.</p><p>He’d tried to hide his emotions—and to what end? All that had come of it was pain and misunderstanding—for God’s sake, Newton had thought that Hermann thought of him as just a dirty little secret!</p><p>He knew Newton had never had the best self-esteem, but that wasn’t to blame here—Hermann was, and he knew it. </p><p>And still, he didn’t know what to do.</p><p>After the night before, he hadn’t seen Newton—normally, he would have run into him by now, considering that they usually took breakfast together, but Hermann hadn’t run into him. And even if he <em> had </em> run into him—what would he have said?</p><p>
  <em> Sorry? </em>
</p><p>He didn’t know.</p><p>He really didn’t—there was no guidebook for this, no system he could follow, no way to logic it out; this was emotional, and that’d never been his forte, always leaving him without words and on edge.</p><p>But—he <em> did </em> need to apologise. Even if Newton didn’t accept it—and God knew he had every right not to—, he needed to.</p><p>However, he had to also consider that he hadn’t seen Newton because the other was avoiding him—and Hermann understood that, truly did. Newton needed his space, probably, especially after something as emotional as that.</p><p>The laboratory wasn’t empty when he got there—Newton was on his side, quietly dissecting his specimens. When Hermann entered, he raised his head to see who it was, and then, when he caught sight of Hermann, looked back down.</p><p>Hermann swallowed thickly.</p><p>Alright.</p><p>Newton needed his space.</p><p>Hermann could give him that.</p><p>He tried his best to dive into his work—today, there was no need for the chalkboards, so he was mostly just sitting at his desk and writing in his notebook and entering data into his modeling software.</p><p>After a few hours, he managed to fall into an uneasy sort of focus. Without the sound he’d grown accustomed to from Newton’s side of the lab, everything seemed much louder, and even the smallest things—Newton dropping a pencil, the creak of his own chair—seemed much louder than they ever had been, and he wasn’t able to tune them out properly.</p><p>They hadn’t spoken since Hermann had entered the lab in the morning and, as the day wound to a close, it seemed like they wouldn’t be speaking at all that day.</p><p>Finally, eight pm came, and Hermann began to tidy up his desk, putting things back into drawers, and then, once that was done, rose and made his way towards the door.</p><p>“Hermann—” the call was short; half-cut off, at the last second, and Hermann turned in surprise to find Newton looking at him, lips pursed.</p><p>“Yes?” he asked, hoping his tone was even.</p><p>There was a beat; then: “Nothing,” Newton muttered, and turned back to his work.</p><p>Hermann turned around and pushed the door open, making his way down the halls towards his own quarters.</p><p>On the way, he ran into Tendo again, and when he spotted him, Tendo grinned widely. “Hermann!” he greeted, slowing down a bit so Hermann fell into step by his side. “Hey, just the man I was looking for.”</p><p>“Tendo.” Hermann sighed; wondering what on Earth could have the man so—<em> peppy, </em> for lack of a better word. “What is it that you needed me for? If it’s those reports that the Marshal wants, I’ve already told him, they’ll be ready in two days—”</p><p>Tendo laughed. “No, no,” he said, shaking his head, “this is about the party! I’m a party-man, Hermann, you know that—”</p><p>“—is there anyone that <em> doesn’t </em> know that—?”</p><p>“—so, <em> anyway </em>,” Tendo continued, “I wanted to invite you to Alison and I’s three-year anniversary party!”</p><p>“I thought you were of the opinion that I was, and I quote, ‘a total lame-ass boring bastard’ and that you would never invite me to one of your parties again because of it,” Hermann said, flatly.</p><p>Tendo waved a hand. “I’m having mercy on you,” he said. “Friday, nine-o-clock, just at our place, you know where I live—there’ll be black forest cherry cake, I <em> know </em> you love that stuff. Newt’s already said yes. You guys can hang out together and do whatever disgusting couple-y things you do.”</p><p>Hermann felt as if a bucket of ice-water had been dumped on him. “I’m busy on Friday,” he croaked, finally, “F—family matter. I won’t be able to attend, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Tendo frowned at him. “What? Come on, Hermann—”</p><p>“Good <em> night </em>, Mister Choi,” Hermann said, and quickened his pace, ignoring Tendo’s voice calling after him.</p>
<hr/><p>Newt really did have a meeting early that morning where he had to present the newest marine life findings and a plan to improve them because well, everything was terrible and if they didn’t fix the planet killing the kaiju would mean nothing. He may have been a little more patient than usual answering questions even when the alloted time for the meeting was up, and maybe he offered to explain some stuff to Herc afterwards, even if Herc didn’t take him up on it. </p><p>He arrived back at the lab and found it empty, which was odd because it was far past Hermann’s usual time to be in the lab. Maybe Hermann needed his space too and was avoiding Newt. He wouldn’t blame him, it was probably a good idea to be separate for a while. They only ever seemed to hurt each other when they were together. </p><p>When Hermann finally did arrive Newt looked up and the sick look on Hermann’s face stopped him from even saying good morning. Newt went back to his dissection and ignored Hermann. He kept his music low so that Hermann wouldn’t have more of a reason to be mad at him. There was a part of him that was mad at Hermann too, they had both done this, but he supposed that meant they both had to work towards an apology. </p><p>Around lunch he left and walked around the base to clear his head. He wished he could call his dad and get an opinion even if the opinion would be one rooted in deep disappointment in his child. And he didn’t know where Tendo had disappeared to and he still needed to figure out a way to bail out of his party. Oddly, Newt had lost his enthusiasm in celebrating the love between two of his friends. </p><p>He finally forced himself back to the lab and went back to work, determined to throw himself into his work until Hermann felt like talking to him. Unfortunately that wasn’t going to be any time soon because he was reviewing the analysis of some of the tissue when Hermann started to leave without a word. “Hermann,” he said without any real plan about what to do or say. </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>For a long moment Newt just stood there with his mouth half open trying to think of something to say that would put them back to the way they had been. He didn’t care what version of their relationship they ended at, he’d take circa 2020 when they had first been forced to share a lab and they had almost killed each other in the process. But nothing could do that, there was nothing he could say or do that would make them Newt and Hermann again. “Nothing.” Hermann left.</p><p>A few minutes later he heard whistling and then a bang on the door before Tendo strode into the lab. “Yo, got your weird vague text, what’s goin’ on?”</p><p>Newt looked up at him and sighed. “You know how you were always telling me I should talk to Hermann if  I want our problems fixed?” Newt asked as he left his desk to sit on the lab couch. </p><p>“Yeah, what happened?” Tendo followed him and sat on the opposite arm of the couch, perched happily. </p><p>“So turns out Hermann didn’t think we were dating.”</p><p>Tendo choked on air. </p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>Tendo slid off the arm of the couch and sat next to Newt. “Okay, back up. What happened?”</p><p>Once Newt had explained the whole thing, only crying a little when Tendo wrapped an arm around his shoulders, they sat in silence for a long time. </p><p>“Okay, so I may have made this worse,” Tendo said, grimacing. </p><p>“How?”</p><p>“I invited him to the party like we talked about and then I may have said you two could just hang out and do couple-y things so he wouldn’t, you know, hear the word party and run away...like we talked about.”</p><p>“Tendo...” Newt buried his face in his hands. </p><p>“I didn’t know that you two were living in a romantic drama! I thought I was just inviting a guy I only kinda like to a party for the sake of my best friend,” Tendo said with a shrug. </p><p>“Tendo...what do I do?” Newt asked without uncovering his face. </p><p>Tendo patted his back twice. “You know exactly what I’m going to say to that.”</p>
<hr/><p>The next day, Hermann walked into the lab, expecting nothing different from the day before—so when, barely a few moments after he entered and walked to his boards, there was a soft cough behind him.</p><p>He turned to find Newton standing awkwardly. “Can I—can I talk to you?” he asked, tugging at the blue nitrile gloves on his hands. “About—” he laughed. “God, okay, alright, I’m gonna be straight with you here, I’m absolutely terrified of this, so can we like—sit down, please?”</p><p>“...alright,” Hermann said after a beat, and followed Newton to sit on the couch. “I...Newton—” he swallowed, suddenly, awkward; stopped. </p><p>Newton, thankfully, seemed to have been possessed by some spirit, and managed to continue on. “I wanted to talk about it. Um. Us. Or—the, the lack of us, I guess. I wanted to...to clear some things up. If—if you don’t, um, if you don’t mind—”</p><p>“I don’t,” Hermann assured, “Newton, I—” his voice cracked. “I want to apologise, first. Before—before you say anything else, I need to say it. I need to apologise. I...I thought I knew better than you did, and—and in doing so, I hurt you. Very badly. I know that now, and I’m very, very sorry.”</p><p>There was a beat of silence. “...thanks,” Newton said, finally. </p><p>Hermann licked his lips; reached out to set a tentative hand on Newton’s knee—paused, hand hovering. “May I...?”</p><p>Newton nodded incrementally. After Hermann set his hand down, he said, “I’m sorry, too. It’s just as much my fault, I should have asked—”</p><p>“No. No.” Hermann shook his head. “Please, Newton, I can’t—I love you too much to listen to you say that. And I don’t mean it as a—a way to, to try and make you feel—” he cut himself off; started again. “I love you, Newton, and I cannot allow you to continue this. Please, Newton, believe me when I say that you’re <em> wrong </em>. And so was I.”</p><p>There was a startled laugh; a bit wet, and then Newton said, “That’s...god, it’s weird to actually hear you say it. It’s like something out of my wildest dreams.”</p><p>Hermann’s chest constricted. God; he couldn’t believe that it had gotten so bad—that him communicating openly with Newton would seem so unrealistic. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again. “I...God, is there—is there anything I can <em> do? </em>”</p><p>“I...I don’t know,” Newton admitted. </p><p>A few more beats passed; and then Newton said, “Can...can we try again? Maybe?”</p><p>Hermann drew a sharp breath. “What if I hurt you again—? Newton, I’ve hardly been the best partner,” he reminded, softly; trying to keep his voice even. </p><p>“No.” The word was spoken sharply. “You weren’t. I thought you were, but you weren’t—you can’t date someone who doesn’t know it. It has to be mutual. And...and it <em> is </em> my fault, for having those expectations and not talking to you about what I wanted or what my concerns were, so...so I. I want to try again. We’re both at fault, and I love you, and you love me, and I want to try again.</p><p>“We can, god, we can—we can plan days to talk about stuff, make it a routine, make it <em> our </em> routine—” he smiled, sheepishly. “You love your routines. And—and we can try a couples counselor, or not, but that’s an option too. But Hermann, I really—I really do want to try again, so I’m asking...do you?”</p><p>“I...yes,” Hermann said. “Yes, I do.”</p><p>Newton met his gaze, and placed his hand over Hermann’s. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”</p>
<hr/><p>Newt and Hermann started dating on Wednesday January 21st, 2026. Two days later they had a party to attend. Newt led Hermann up to the Chois’ apartment, holding his hand. Hermann had started doing that, holding his hand whenever he could. Newt still blushed sometimes but it was nice and he was getting used to it. Adjusting to the new, better version of them. </p><p>Tendo opened the door with a toddler on his shoulders. “Hey, glad you could make it, come in,” he said as he backed away. Newt handed him the bottle of wine they had stopped for on the way there. “Thanks, brother.”</p><p>“Congrats on the three years,” Newt said looking around the room, it wasn’t dead but it also wasn’t crowded. There were probably ten other people there talking amicably together. Most of them were from the dome and were at least a little bit familiar. Alison pulled herself away to come to them. </p><p>“Thanks, best three years of my life,” Tendo said. </p><p>Alison pulled Newt into a hug. “I’m glad you could come, I wasn’t sure with...but it looks like things are better?” she said motioning at the way their hands found each other as soon as Newt was out of her hug. </p><p>“Oh, you and Tendo know about that?” Heramnn asked, looking a little sick. </p><p>“He’s my best friend, he tells me things,” Tendo said before his ear was stabbed with glittery sunglasses by his child who had gotten bored on his shoulders. </p><p>“I understand. I just wasn’t aware,” Hermann said, obviously trying to smile and be cordial. His grip on Newt’s hand was nearly crushing, though. </p><p>“No one else knows. Promise. Julia was so surprised she gasped when she saw that you two were holding hands,” Alison said with a laugh. </p><p>Newt could feel Hermann relax, his grip becoming much more comfortable. </p><p>“Awesome because we came up with a whole fake thing about how we were sitting in the lab thinking about Pitfall and we couldn't believe it had already been a year and then we kissed and I would hate that story to go to waste,” Newt said, laughing and giving Hermann’s hand a reassuring squeeze. </p><p>Hermann looked at him, a soft smile on his lips. “Yes, he spent hours working on our “cover stories”, as it were.”</p><p>“Hey, you’re the one who came up with the detail that we were bonding over the fact it had been a year. I was just gonna have it be a surprise kiss from an eighties rom-com,” Newt said with a glare even though he was smiling. He’d been doing a lot of smiling the past few days, his face was starting to hurt. </p><p>Tendo cut in before they could continue bickering. “Wow, you two nerds really are made for each other.”</p><p>Newt and Hermann just kept smiling at each other. </p>
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